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.Kr, i.- 


Invisible Hands 

By F. Von Zobeltitz. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY 

S. E. BOGGS, 

Translator of “The Little Countess,” etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES FAGAN. 


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HER LITTLE HIGHNESS. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 

NATALY VON ESCHSTRUTH, 

Atithor of A Priestess of Comedy," “ Countess Dynar," 
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BY 

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“ Her Little Highness” is Baroness Eschstruth’s latest book 
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from the rest of the world, which tends to heighten the piquancy of 
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little woman from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and her 
love of Valleral, a gay and frolicsome courtier, is the most natural 
thing in the world. However unsuitable for the husband of a 
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For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid 
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INVISIBLE HANDS. 



INVISIBLE HANDS 


a ^ovti 


AFTER TH^GERMAN OF 

F. VON ZOBELTITZ. 




BY 


tV 


0 


/<' I ' , 

O' i ’ - 
c 


I 


S. E. BOGGS, 

Translator of “ The Little Countess^ 

miiN2318iC! 




WITH ILUSTRA TtONS BY JAMES FAG A H. 




NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

PUBLISHERS. 


THE LEDGER LISRARY 2 ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWELVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NO. Ill, 
JUNE 16, 1S64. ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., POST OFFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTER* 


^ 9 - IZOT^ 



COPTRIQHT, 1894, 

Br ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 


(All rights reserved.) 



t 

A 



INVISIBLE HANDS. 


CHAPTER I. 

AT THE counselor’s. 

44 T "T 7 HY so melancholy, Waldau ? I have been 
\/\/ observing you the entire evening — from 
▼ » the moment of your arrival at the hospi- 

table house of our excellent host until now, and not 
once have I detected a smile on your countenance. 
What in the world is the matter with you ?” 

The young man to whom these words were addressed 
returned the coffee cup he had just emptied to the tray 
on the table, and rested his feet on the reticulated 
fender, above which waved the pale-blue and sulphur- 
hued flames of a coal fire. For one instant the deep line 
between his brows buried itself still deeper, while 
around his lips, which were shaded by a blonde mus- 
tache, played a smile that had in it more of bitterness 
than mirth, 

“You are mistaken, my dear Menken,” he returned, 
without lifting his gaze from the glowing coals. “ I am 
neither melancholy nor morose.” 

[ 7 ] 


8 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ If I am, then it is the first time I have made a mis- 
take in reading- your countenance,” responded his friend. 
“ In the three years of our pleasant friendship, I have 
learned to know you — better than you think. That fur- 
row between your brows, the restlessness which drives 
you now here, now there, the expression in your eyes, 
the convulsive twitching of your lips — these are suf- 
ficient evidence that all is not as it should be. There ’s 
no use trying to deceive me, Waldau, You can’t do it.” 

“ I ’m not trying to do anything of the sort,” retorted 
Waldau. “ It would not be worth while. Neverthe- 
less ” — here his tone plainly betrayed his irritation — 
“ I find it singular enough that you persist in annoying 
me a whole evening with questions, when you certainly 
must see that I am not inclined to give you an expla- 
nation which will satisfy you.” 

“ Oh, that is the light in which you look upon my 
friendly interest, is it ?” exclaimed Herr von Menken, 
elevating his brows. “ I had an idea you knew me 
better. Surely I have given you ample proof of my 
disinterested friendship. You are a changed person in 
the last weeks ; you have become almost a stranger to 
me — act, indeed, as if you wished me to look upon you 
as such. Very good ! I shall try to endure the pain of 
such a breach. I only hope the task may prove an 
easier one for you, my boy.” 

The baron closed his eyes and drummed mechanically 
on the chapeau-claque which rested on his knees, while 
a sorrowful expression crept about his closely shaven 
lips. 

Waldau saw the sadness in his friend’s face, but was 
not softened by it. He raised himself slightly from his 
half-recumbent position in the easy-chair, and said, still 
in a resentful tone : 

“ You have sai'd that more than once, Attokar, and I 


AT THE counselor’s. 


9 


have always assured you that you were mistaken. I 
do not want to break our friendship. Is there another 
soul but yourself in whom I, a poor, unfortunate beg- 
gar, could confide ? Is it likely that I should want to 
break with the only person who cares for me ? But I 
am only human, and have my moods like other mortals. 
Perhaps you would like to see always on my lips the 
stereotyped smile of the drawing-room dandy — always 
hear me utter the platitudes of those brainless fops ? If 
so, you will be disappointed, for I am not equal to it. 
I am deeply indebted to you, Attokar, so deeply that I 
can never hope to repay a tithe of the favors you have 
showered upon me ; but that I owe you every thought 
of my heart I will not admit — that is asking too much.” 

Menken did not stir. He merely half opened his 
eyes, and sent a swift glance toward his friend ; then 
he closed them again, observing quietly : 

“ There is no call for such vehemence, Elimar. Let 
us talk calmly, dispassionately. But first, let me beg 
you not to speak of your indebtedness to me. You 
owe me no gratitude. I forced my friendship on you. 
If I sought yours, it was because it gave pleasure to an 
old fellow like myself, and because I wanted to test the 
teaching of Hippocrates : That companionship with 
youth rejuvenates and preserves the mind of old age. 
You were once open-hearted and frank toward me, 
looking upon me as a father, or, shall I say, elder 
brother? You found in me a heart that understood 
you — until very lately. I have no wish to reproach you 
for your reserve, Elimar — God forbid! I only mean 
that your altered manner toward your old friend 
grieves him mSre than he can tell.” 

Waldau was silent for several seconds, during which 
he stared moodily at the crackling fire. Then, with 
sudden emotion : 


10 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Don’t be angry, Attokar,” he begged. “ I dare say 
you are right. I am changed and don’t know it — ” 

“ Don’t deceive yourself, Elimar,” earnestly inter- 
rupted the baron, opening his eyes and letting them 
rest searchingly on the young man’s pale, worn face. 
“ You know very well what is troubling your heart, 
and— to be frank — I, too, am aware of it. You are in 
love.” 

A deep flush shot into the young man’s cheeks. He 
crouched yet farther into his chair, like a frightened lad 
in whom a stern father has detected a fault. 

“ And suppose it were as you say ?” he returned in a 
low, constrained voice. “ Suppose I am in love — what 
then ?” 

Menken sighed unconsciously before replying, in his 
usual quiet manner : 

“ Then J should be sorry for you — ” 

A heavy footstep crossing the polished floor of the 
adjoining room interrupted him. A large, red hand 
brushed from the doorway the damask portiere^ the 
heavy folds of which modulated the lively chatter in 
the drawing-room to a gentle, murmuring sound. 

“ Well, well !” exclaimed a resounding bass voice. 
“ Here are the deserters — toasting themselves by the 
Are, and gossiping as comfortably as if they owed no 
duty to the rest of the world ! Veritably another 
Orestes and Pylades ! I should feel inclined to pardon 
your desertion had you retired to this seclusioi^to en- 
joy a Havana ; but you haven't touched the cigars. 
Waldau ! Menken ! What means such abstemiousness ? 
By my word, I believe you are waiting for an ex- 
ample !” concluded their gigantic host, moving his 
stately embonpoint toward the little table in a window- 
recess, which bore on its ebony top the requisites for 
smoking. 


AT THE counselor's. 


11 


The two friends had risen to their feet on his en- 
trance. 

“ You must pardon our brief absence, my dear coun- 
selor,” said Baron Menken, taking a cigar and lighting 
it. Then blowing a fragant cloud slowly from his lips 
and nostrils, continued : “ It was so very warm in the 
drawing-room — all owing to your matchless Marsala, 
counselor — that I feared a recurrence of my old 
trouble — congestion. The brief rest in this cosy gos- 
sip-corner has refreshed me. I am again at your ser- 
vice.” 

“ Incredible !” growled the giant, puffing like an en- 
gine at his cigar. “ I am afraid you are slandering my 
Marsala, baron. And you, Waldau, what ails you ? 
Lieutenant Von Wedell says you are worrying because 
you committed the terrible blunder of treading on the 
tail of Fraulein Lassner’s gown at the last reception. 
Assessor Pringsberg declares that you were served at 
Borchardt’s three times in succession with corked Moet- 
Chandon. Whatever it is that troubles you, you must 
banish it from your heart. Come, as a punishment for 
running away from us, you must take your place at the 
piano and play my favorite ‘ Preished.' ” 

The counselor, who added to his fondness for Russian 
pasties and sparkling Chablis, a passionate love of 
music, flung his cigar into the bronze ash-receiver, took 
Elimar under one arm and Menken under the other 
and marched with them to the drawing-room, where 
the entire company had assembled after dinner. 

It was always more cheerful and merry in Counselor 
Dreyfuss’s hospitable mansion than in most of the 
drawing-rooms frequented by his guests. This cheer- 
fulness was due far more to the lively disposition of 
the host than to his wife, who was, however, an amiable, 
and not unsociable woman. 


n 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


The counselor had laid the foundation of his con- 
siderable fortune during- the campaign of 1866, and 
had managed his affairs with such discretion that, when 
the Franco-Prussian War ended, he was ranked among 
the millionaires of his fatherland. He was proud of 
his self-made wealth, and justly boasted that it had 
been honestly acquired. But that which gave him 
quite as much satisfaction as his gold, was his title, 
and the crown-order of the fourth class, both proud 
distinctions having been received through the distin- 
guished influence of General Von Stein witz, whom he 
had once had the honor of relieving from a disagree- 
able embarrassment. 

Frau Theresa Dreyfuss had a personality of a peculiar 
order. It was said that she had formerly been the 
counselor’s housekeeper before that worthy gentleman 
had bent his obstinate head to the matrimonial yoke, 
and there may have been some truth in the ofi dit. 
Few persons could remember hearing the good wife 
speak of anything save the mysteries of the kitchen, 
the pantry and the linen closet. She was the embodi- 
ment of matter exemplified by a figure as round as a 
ball, with a fresh, rosy-cheeked face that reminded one 
of the laughing full-moon. 

. Art and artists Frau Theresa tolerated with an in- 
dulgent silence. The only pictures which could win 
her favor were representations of “ eatables ” — such as 
are termed “ still-life.” Consequently the only artist, 
and there were several among the counselor’s frequent 
guests, who had succeeded in ingratiating himself into 
the good graces of his hostess, was a young man whom 
Elimar Waldau had introduced to her. This young 
painter possessed a peculiar talent for portraying the 
aforementioned subjects, for which reason he had been 
dubbed by his fellow-craftsmen, “ Still-Life Eugene.” 


AT THE counselor’s. 


13 


Eug-ene Blenkner on frequent occasions, such as 
birth- and name-days and Christmas, had presented to 
his kind-hearted patroness marks of his respect and 
esteem. Now it was a neatly executed Dutch cheese, 
with a life-like fly buzzing around it ; now a tray of 
oranges, with a champagne glass. In fact, Frau Theresa 
might be said to have on the walls of her own private 
sitting-room an artistic array of the contents of her 
larder. 

There was a third person in the counselor’s house- 
hold — Annie Biirger, a niece, who had been adopted by 
the kind-hearted couple on the death of her parents. 

As the counselor had no children of his own, Annie 
was his presumptive heir, and as such was surrounded 
by admirers. She was not what would be called hand- 
some — rather plain, indeed, with a brusque, independent 
manner that would have offended many had it not been 
for the golden nimbus which encircled her. 

When the counselor, with Waldau and Baron Men- 
ken, entered the drawing-room, the company had separ- 
ated into groups. Several ladies, among them Frau 
Dreyfuss, in a burgundy-hued gown and powdered 
front, were taking their mocha at a table near the end 
of the room, and absorbed in discussing the possibility 
of improving the taste of anise patties by an ounce of 
cream of tarter. 

A second group, composed of two officers of artillery. 
Lieutenants Von Wedell and Markwitz, Assessor Prings- 
berg and “ Still-Life Eugene,” were gathered in a win- 
dow-recess where, in order to escape the ladies’ glances, 
they might select a favorite liqueur from the tray, 
which Frederick, the butler, was presenting. 

On the opposite side of the room from these con- 
vivially inclined gentlemen stood Lieutenant Doring, 
and Herr Rahlou, a journalist, engaged in a spirited 


14 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


controversy wnth the counselor’s niece, and Frau Hil- 
gersdorf, a charming young widow. 

“ Here are the deserters !” announced the counselor, 
leading his captives into the middle of the room, and 
releasing them. “There, Herr Waldau, the piano is 
ready for you — may I have the pleasure !’’ 

“ You are very good, my dear counselor,” laughingly 
returned Elimar, laying his hand on the giant’s prof- 
fered arm. “ I am afraid you will not be satisfied with 
my attempt to-day, I am not in a musical mood.” 

Waldau’s musical education had been thorough, and 
he played as only he can play whose soul is in his perform- 
ance. The tones he drew from the instrument seemed 
to gush from his heart, as if he felt every one of them, 
as if they were part of his being. A slight flush rested 
on his usually pale face ; a peculiar light, as if he were 
inspired, shone in his brown eyes. 

While he was playing the company remained per- 
fectly silent ; only the counselor, who swung his massive 
head like a pendulum from right to left, occasionally 
gave utterance to an admiring : 

“ Incredible ! Incredibly beautiful !” 

All eyes rested on the performer, but in none was 
there such ardent sympathy as in Frau von Hilgers- 
dorf’s deep black orbs. 

Enthusiastic applause greeted Elimar when he rose 
from the piano. 

“ That was heavenly ! Many, many thanks !” ex- 
claimed the counselor, crushing the young man’s slen- 
der fingers in his huge palm. 

While Elimar was receiving hearty thanks from the 
rest of the company — from all except Frau von Hil- 
gersdorf, who remained aloof, and Frau Dreyfuss, who, 
on the conclusion of the music, had at once resumed 
her condemnation of the practice of adulterating milk 


AT THE counselor’s. 


15 


— Baron Menken approached the counselor, and drew 
him to one side. 

“ Where is Colonel Von Hackert ?” he asked, in a care- 
less tone, but with a certain anxious expression under 
his half-closed eyelids. “ It is not often that he is 
missing from your hospitable board.” 

Herr Drey fuss shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Don’t ask me, my dear baron. Between ourselves, 
I find the colonel’s behavior a trifle queer. I invited 
him, but he has net thought it worth while to send a 
reply — notwithstanding my ‘ R. S. V. P.’ was written 
in distinct capitals — incredible, don’t you think ?” 

Menken nodded thoughtfully. 

“ Yes, it is very singular. It is to be hoped nothing 
has happened.” 

“ Don’t be a raven, baron ! Don’t croak, and fear the 
worst at once. I dare say that precious daughter of 
his has taken a cold, and must have some camomile 
tea, which papa, of course, must brew with his own 
hands. In any event he might have sent a regret.” 

The baron muttered an inarticulate reply into his 
tall white choker, and turned away. As he did so his 
eyes fell on a youthful pair who imagined themselves 
unseen behind the damask curtain which draped a 
bay-window. Annie Blirger and Lieutenant Doring 
had withdrawn to this retreat when Elimar Waldau 
began to play. It was only a fleeting glance which the 
baron caught through a rift in the curtain ; but he saw 
that the two heads, Annie’s brown curls and the lieu- 
tenant’s blonde locks, were suspiciously close together ; 
that the young officer’s right hand clasped that of the 
counselor’s niece. A smile played around the baron’s 
lips as he passed onward toward the circle of elderly 
dames around the coffee-urn. 

“ Another pair of lovers,” he muttered. “ Another 


16 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


happy pair ! But you will have to fight for your bride^ 
my blonde young warrior ! I know the counselor well,, 
and I know that he counts on exchanging his money- 
bags for a baronet’s crown at the very least, while you. 
have only your iron cross to offer.” 

The four gentlemen in the window-recess, whose at- 
tention was concentrated anew on the liqueur casket,, 
resumed their conversation when the music ceased. 

“ That fellow Waldau is a wonderfully gifted chap,”' 
observed Lieutenant Von Wedell. “ There are few 
accomplishments he has not mastered. He dances, 
like a sylph, plays piano like a virtuoso, paints like 
Apelles — ” 

“ Have you ever seen any of his work ?” interrupted 
“ Still-Life Eugene,” who could listen to anything but 
praises of his fellow- artist. “ If you have, then you 
may be counted among the meager number who con- 
sider Waldau an artist. Did he not give out that he 
was one of us no one would know it.” 

“ Beg pardon, my dear Herr Blenkner,” here inter- 
posed Assessor Pringsberg. “ You forget that Waldau 
received a gold medal tw’o years ago at the art exhibi- 
tion for his ‘ Vestal Virgin.’ That he has as much right 
to call himself an artist as a dozen others who have not 
accomplished so much, simple justice must compel you 
to admit. Moreover, had his ‘ Virgin ’ not possessed 
some merit, it would not have found a purchaser so 
quickly.” 

“ Humph ! And who was the purchaser ?” retorted 
Blenkner, with a scornful laugh. “ Baron Menken, 
Waldau’s intimate friend — his shadow, * his second 
self !” 

‘‘ I must contradict you a second time, Blenkner,” 
responded the assessor. “ At that time Menken had 
not yet become acquainted with Waldau — neither per- 


AT THE counselor’s. 


17 


sonally nor by name. Only after he had become the 
owner of the ‘ Vestal ’ did he meet the painter of it.” 

“ Gentlemen, gentlemen !” broke in Lieutenant 
jMarkwitz. “You are beginning another argument. 
You two never meet but you quarrel. Don’t be so 
aggressive, Pringsberg, so volcanic. Your loud voice 
has attracted attention to our retreat. See, even Frau 
von Hilgersdorf’s beautiful eyes are directed hither- 
ward.” 

“That does not surprise me,” observed Von Wedell, 
complacently stroking the down on his upper lip. “ To 
be compelled to listen to Doctor Rahlou is certainly no 
agreeable task. The fellow is a personified double- 
leaded leader — ” 

“ And his dark-eyed vis-a-vis the embodiment of one 
of Lenau’s Hungarian sonnets,” supplemented Prings- 
berg, sending an admiring glance toward the lady in 
question. 

“ She is a Hungarian by birth,” I believe, said Mark- 
witz. 

“ Yes, genuine Magyar blood,” assented Pringsberg, 
who was always well-informed concerning the ante- 
cedents of the more prominent stars in the social fir- 
mament. “ She was married at sixteen to General von 
Hilgersdorf, who was sixty. She is only twenty now, 
but looks ten years older — which makes her all the 
more charming.” 

“ Has she any money ?” inquired Markwitz, letting an 
interested glance rest on the fair widow. 

“Oh, you prosaic creature!” laughingly exclaimed 
the assessor. “Can’t you separate the ba.se earthly 
from the godlike ? It is said that she is very rich. I 

know that she owns the house in K Street, and a 

handsome villa at San Remo, where she spent the past 
two years, and where the old general died. Does that 


18 


INVISIBLE HANDS.- 


content you ? However, if you have any intention of 
paying court to the lovely widow, I should advise you 
to wait a few months. You see she is still in mourn- 
ing.” 

“ I dare say she wears black because it harmonizes 
so well with the shimmer of her hair, and the gleam in 
her eyes,” remarked Blenkner. “ The year of mourn- 
ing is past, and — . But look at the counselor ! What has 
happened, I Wonder ?” 

Herr Dreyfuss was talking with Elimar Waldau when 
Frederick, the butler, approached him with a letter, 
and said in a low, apologetic tone : 

“ Beg pardon, counselor, but Augustus has just 
brought this note from Fraulein Von Hackert. The 
gracious Fraulein begs pardon for sending it at this 
late hour,” 

Dreyfuss took the note and hastily opened it ; while 
Waldau, who could plainly see the delicate chirography, 
grew suddenly pallid and leaned heavily against the 
mantel. 

The counselor read the few hastily written lines, a 
serious expression settling on his face. 

“ This is sad, very sad indeed !” he muttered. Then 
he stepped into the middle of the room and said aloud ; 
“ My friends, I have just received some very sorrowful 
news. I tell you because you are all acquainted with 
Colonel von__ Hackert. I invited the colonel to dine 
with us this evening, and was rather offended because 
he sent neither an acceptance nor a regret. Fraulein 
Lucia’s note explains the trifling omission. She writes:” 
He polished his pince-nez before reading. 

“‘My. Dear Counselor: Papa was taken ill day before 
yesterday. I hoped it might be merely a temporary attack, and 
therefore postponed sending an answer to your kind invitation. 
Unfortunately papa’s condition became suddenly very serious, 


At tHfi COUNSELOR S. 


19 


and Doctor Goeschen fears the worst. Sorrow and excitement 
prevented me from writing earlier to you. I trust you will par- 
don the delay when you learn the cause. 

“ ‘ Very sincerely yours, 

“‘Lucia von Hackert-Selchern.’ ” 

A sympathetic murmur rose from the company ; and 
while expressions of regret for the brave old soldier’s 
illness were heard on all sides, Baron Menken ap- 
proached his young friend, who was still leaning, 
deathly pale, against the mantel, and almost roughly 
grasped his arm. 

A singular expression distorted the baron’s features. 
His usually cold eyes gleamed with a strange fire, as 
he said in a hoarse whisper ; 

“ Don’t be weak, Waldau. Compose yourself. It is 
not necessary that all the world should read your 
heart.” 




CHAPTER 11. 

IN THE SICK-ROOM. 

Not a single ray of the bright winter sunshine pene- 
trated through the heavy curtains which draped the 
corner windows on the second story of an imposing 

mansion in K Street. Within the room it was so 

dark that only the faint outlines of a large bed and 
the dark-robed figure sitting beside it could be seen. 

“ Lux, my darling — are you there ?” asked a weak 
voice from the bed. 

“ Yes, dear papa, do you want anything ?” replied a 
gentle tone as the dark-robed figure bent over the 
pillow. 

“ Open the curtains and let some light into the room,” 
commanded the invalid. “ The sun must be shining ; 
I feel it. Oh, how I long for sunshine and light !” 

Lucia was already at one of the windows. She drew 
back the heavy curtains and rolled up the blind. In- 
stantly the sick-room was flooded with dazzling light, 
and the sun, as if wishing to show his gratitude to the 
little hand which had admitted him, sent his full rays 
on the girlish form moving noiselessly back to the bed- 
side. 


[ 20 ] 


IN THE SICK-ROOM. 


21 


Tenderly the young girl smoothed the pillow on 
which lay the pale, gray-bearded face. Then she lifted 
to her lips the thin hand resting on the cover, and said : 

“ How do you feel, papa? Don’t you think you are 
stronger? You have been sleeping soundly for four 
hours.” 

The invalid turned his head toward her, and rested 
his dull eyes on her face. 

“ Thanks, my dearest, I am better— much better. I 
shall soon be well again — Potztaiisend ! What a shak- 
ing up this rascally fever has given me ! And that 
souvenir I got at Mars-la-Tour never lets me forget its 
presence in my old carcass. But I am a hardy old oak 
and can withstand many a hard blast. What is the 
news, dear heart ?” he asked, after a pause. “ These 
few days in bed have broken all communication with 
the outside world ” 

“ The news, papa ?” repeated Lucia, hesitatingly. “ I 
am afraid you will have to wait a few days before I 
may read the papers to you. Doctor Goeschen has 
given strict orders that you are not to be excited, and I 
am well enough acquainted with my papacheii to know 
how he would receive any news that might not meet 
his approval. The newspapers have been carefully 
preserved, and just so soon as the doctor gives me per- 
mission, you shall hear everything that has happened.” 

The invalid’s hands moved restlessly over the blue- 
silk coverlet. A slight frown wrinkled his brow ; but 
a good-natured chuckle was heard underneath the 
heavy mustache. 

“ You are a little goose. Lux. I tell you I am well — 
quite well again. Fetch the newspapers, dear, I want 
to know what has been going on in the world.” 

Lucia bent her face close to her father’s and said 
coaxingly : 


25 


INVlgiBLE HAMt)§. 


“ If I beg it as a great favor, papa dear, won’t you 
let politics alone for a few days longer ? I will tell 
you something else that will interest you.” 

“ Don’t rouse my curiosity, Lux. What is it ? Out 
with it !” 

“ You must first promise to be very, very calm.” 

Potztause7id ! How calm do you want me to 
be ? As rigid as a raw recruit after a three- weeks’ 
drill r 

Lucia laughed gleefully, then .said : 

“ Herr von Menken is in the sitting-room ; he has 
been here six or seven times during your illness, and 
has waited over an hour to-day. He would like to see 
you, and find out for himself how you really are. Shall 
I let him come up to see you for a few minutes 

“ Menken, did you say ?” exclaimed the invalid with 
animation. “ The good fellow ! Do I want to see my 
old comrade ! Directly — at once — immediately ! But 
not for a few minutes. Lux, for hours — as long as he 
will have the patience to stop in a sick-room.” 

“You must be careful, papa, very careful !” smilingly 
admonished his daughter, “ Remember I am the colonel, 
and you the recruit who has to obey !” 

She arranged the pillows, straightened the covers and 
placed a silver handbell on the little table beside the 
bed. Then she left the room, and in a few seconds 
was in the sitting-room. 

Baron Menken was standing at the window looking 
out upon the animated scene in the street. He turned 
quickly on hearing Lucia’s light step, and came toward 
her, exclaiming earnestly : 

“ He is better, isn’t he, Fraulein Lucia ?” 

He extended his hand to take hers, but she evaded 
the greeting by an imperceptible movement. 

“ I am filled with impatience and uneasiness,” he 


IN THE SICK-ROOM. 


23 


continued, as if he had not noticed her refusal to shake 
hands with him. “ Pray tell me, is the crisis past ?” 

“ Thank God, yes !” replied Lucia. “ We may now 
hope that he will soon be well again. He has slept 
several houVs, and is much stronger. He is ready to 
receive you, but, Herr von Menken — ” she paused, and 
looked pleadingly up into his face before adding : 
“ you will not be offended if I ask you not to stop long 
with him 

“ Pray, my dear child,” earnestly responded the baron, 
“ don’t imagine for a moment that your affectionate 
concern for your dear father could offend me. I under- 
stand very well that the colonel must be spared all ex- 
citement. I only want to see him for a few moments, 
to convince myself of his condition.” 

With a slight bow Lucia moved toward the door, 
and Menken followed. As his glance rested on the 
graceful form of his conductress, it seemed as if a thick 
veil had been suddenly removed frorn his steel-gray 
eyes. The weary, blasd expression usual to them van- 
ished, and gave place to a gloomy passion. It was as 
if a dense mist had lifted suddenly from a blazing volcano. 

“ I am very glad to see you, old fellow !” exclaimed 
the colonel, in his weak tones, extending a trembling 
hand in greeting, when the baron entered the room. 
“ I knew you wouldn’t desert an old comrade as all the 
rest have done ! Come, sit here by me — your hand — 
God bless you !” 

The baron’s eyes rested searchingly on the invalid’s 
face, and the sensation he experienced when he noted 
the sunken cheeks with their hectic color was not one 
of hopefulness. 

“ I am delighted to find that you are not as ill as that 
croaker. Doctor Goeschen, has been trying to make me 
believe,” he forced himself to say, in a jesting tone, as 


24 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


he seated himself in Lucia’s chair, “We all hope you 
will soon be on your legs again ” 

The colonel slowly shook his head, and the smile 
faded from his lips. He looked cautiously around to 
convince himself that they were alone before answer- 
ing in a whisper : 

“ I am afraid not, Attokar. The end is approaching. 
I feel it, here — here, where that Frenchman’s bullet 
tore its way into my lung. The doctors believed they 
had patched me up all right, but they were mistaken. 
Yes, my dear friend, the end is near, and I shall go 
gladly, with the knowledge that I got my death-wound 
while defending the Fatherland. Surely that is nobler 
than to die of a miserable influenza ! And I am weary 
of life, too,” he added, with a sigh. “ Yes, indeed, At- 
tokar, I am tired of it all ! I have had my share of 
happiness, and of sorrow. The only thing that weighs 
upon my heart is Lucia’s future.” 

Menken’s eyelids drooped over the pupils. He was 
an admirable actor, and was versed in the art of dis- 
guising his feelings ; but it would have been impossible, 
at that moment, to meet the invalid’s earnest gaze. He 
felt certain that the colonel must read in his eager eyes 
the chief object of his frequent visits during the past 
weeks. 

“ You, Attokar,” resumed the invalid, “ are the only 
one to whom I confided the secret of my darling’s 
birth, when I lay at death’s door in the hospital at 
Coblentz. Had you not come to see me to day, I 
should have sent a messenger for you to-morrow, for I 
want to consult you about Lux — about destroying 
everything that could possibly lead to a discovery of 
the secret.” 

Menken’s head was bent. He was toying nervously 
with the glove he had drawn from his right hand. 


IN THE SICK-ROOM. 


25 


“Don’t you think you give yourself more trouble 
than is necessary concerning that secret, my dear 
Karl ?” he said, in a low tone. “ So far as I can recall 
the story you told me, there need be no fear of dis- 
covery.” 

“ Yes, yes, there is !” excitedly responded the colonel, 
a deeper flush burning on his cheeks. “ I have not, 
since that day, mentioned the subject to you, but since 
then — since then — ” Here he drew a long breath that 
came with difficulty from his tortured lung. “ I have 
had cause to fear that the secret would become known. 
Carmella Boccani is dead. The letter which brought 
me the information was the end of a noose that has 
been gradually drawing tighter about my throat ! Car- 
mella did not keep her promise, but conflded, before 
her death, the secret to her son, a young rascal. Can’t 
you guess the consequences, Menken ?” 

The baron nodded. His brows were drawn, a very 
serious expression rested on his grave face. 

“ The villain has been threatening you ?” he re- 
turned. “ Did you answer any of his letters ?” 

“ Not until his demands became too shameless,” an- 
swered the colonel, whose voice was growing weaker. 
Then I wrote that I should pay no further attention to 
his appeals, that I looked upon his threats as the raving 
of a madman.” 

“ That was imprudent, Karl,” observed the baron. 
“ You would better have remained silent. You satis- 
fied Carmella’s demands and released yourself from 
further obligation. Why should you trouble yourself 
about her son’s idle threats ? I fancy he would find it 
rather difficult to prove his assertions.” 

“ So I thought until I received Francisco’s — that is 
the rascal’s name— last letter. He speaks of a witness 
who is familiar with the whole affair, and whose word 


26 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


would be sufficient in any court. He assured me that 
if I did not at once send him three thousand francs he 
should lay the case in the hands of an attorney. It was 
the sixth or seventh demand of a like character. What 
will it lead to, do you imagine ?” 

Menken deliberated a moment ; then he asked ; 

“ Did Carmella Boccani ever receive any letters from 
you ?” 

“ My dear Menken ! What a question !” feebly ejac- 
ulated the invalid, “ No, she never received a written 
word from me ; the affair was conducted verbally. The 
only other person beside yourself who could have 
known anything about it was Hilgersdorf ; and that he 
never mentioned it I am confident, for, though he was 
an inveterate gossip, he would not have dared to betray 
me. You understand ? I refer to that eventful even- 
ing at Saint-Estain.” 

Herr von Menken nodded. “ I have come to the con- 
clusion,” he observed thoughtfully, “ that your Fran- 
cisco has invented the story of the witness. It is not so 
difficult to find, in the land of the orange, a false witness 
who would swear to a villainy as it is in our more 
matter-of-fact country. I am acquainted with Italy 
and its social conditions. It is to be hoped you refused 
to give the rascal that last three thousand francs ?” 

“ Unfortunately I did not. The fellow’s boldness 
made me uneasy. I sent the money through Gold- 
berger.” 

“ I am sorry for that ! Three thousand francs would 
have done a deal of good among the deserving poor. 
However, it can’t be helped now. Have you kept the 
epistles you received from this Francisco ?” 

“ They are in my desk, together with those papers of 
which I told you not long ago, and which I want you 
to take charge of. I was careless not to destroy the fel- 


IN THE SICK-ROOM. 


27 


low’s letters. They must not fall into any strange 
hands. If my strength holds out I shall burn them be- 
fore nightfall.” 

“You are right,” assented the baron. “ Not a soul 
must even suspect the existence of such documents. 
One more question, Karl — yon will pardon me, for you 
know why I ask it. Have you made your will ?” 

“ Certainly. Long ago. For years I have carried in 
my breast the threat of death, and was obliged to be 
cautious. My will is written, and properly witnessed, 
and safe with my solicitor. Herbert, my frivolous 
nephew, who has all his life been more trouble than 
pleasure to me, will receive the interest of twenty 
thousand dollars until he marries, when he receives the 
principal. I want to prevent him from squandering 
the money in six months, which he would certainly do 
were he to receive the sum at my death. Augustus, my 
faithful old servant, who drew me from under my 
horse at Mars-la-Tour, and Johanna, my housekeeper, 
are substantially remembered ; everything else goes to 
my darling.” 

“ A wise distribution, Karl. You could not have 
done better. The only thing, then, that worries you is 
this Francisco Boccani ?” 

“Yes, and” — the invalid’s pallid face was o’er- 
shadowed by inexpressible melancholy — “ the fate of 
my poor lonely little Lux. What will become of the 
child when I am gone ? She will be alone, quite alone 
in the world.” 

Menken laid his hand for an instant over his eyes ; 
then passed it slowly across his pale, rigid features. 

“ Do — do you forget that I shall be here, Karl ?” he 
asked in a low tone, speaking with difficulty. “ Al- 
though I could never hope to replace the loss of her 
father, I can and will be her true friend. Or, can’t you 


28 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


trust me with your treasure ? Don’t you believe I have 
fully repented of my first sins ?” 

The colonel laid his cold hand on that of his friend. 

“Attokar, you and I have more than once faced 
death together — those days before Weissenberg and 
Vionville were the bloody witnesses of our friendship. 
In those days of danger and death I learned to know 
you as the bravest of soldiers, the most honest of men, 
the faithfulest comrade and the truest of friends. 
Even your frank confession after that Saint-Estain 
affair could not shake my faith in you. I honor and 
respect you. Attokar, do you think I could have 
trusted you as I have did I not ?” 

The baron’s head sunk lower, he oreathed heavily, 
and his words came in gasps from his lips : 

“ Thank you — Karl — thank you ! You'cannot — guess 
how your trust — your friendship comforts me — gives 
me hope. Yes, hope and courage — courage to tell you 
my secret. Listen — I trust my story will not weary 
you, Karl, but you must hear me — ” He moved his 
chair so that his strangely altered countenance should 
be in shadow, and began — 

Lucia, who was busied about some household duties 
in a room not far distant, suddenly heard a muffled cry. 
The next instant the bell in the sick-room rang sharply, 
a door was hastily opened, and Baron Menken’s voice 
called Augustus. Pale as death, her heart oppressed 
by a sickening dread, Lucia darted to her father’s room. 
One glance told her all ! With a piercing cry of an- 
guish she flung herself on her knees beside the bed on 
which lay the dying soldier, the blood gushing from 
his lips. On the opposite side of the bed stood Baron 
Menken, his tall form bowed, his face that of an aged 
man, his clasped hands pressed convulsively against his 
breast. 



CHAPTER III. 

VARIOUS CONTRASTS. 

It was Still early in the forenoon, yet there was con- 
siderable stir in the courtyard of the artillery barracks. 
In one corner a company of soldiers, in rimless caps 
and long cloaks — for the day was very cold — was gath- 
ered about a cannon, listening with respectful attention 
to the wisdom which fell from the lips of a grizzly-mus- 
tached sergeant. A subaltern, at a little distance apart, 
was exercising a party of recruits. 

On the opposite side of the court a young officer was 
critically watching a squad of volunteers riding. At 
that moment a corporal approached the officer and 
handed him a visiting card. 

“ The gentleman is waiting, lieutenant,” he announced, 
saluting respectfully. “ He would like to speak to the 
lieutenant a moment.” 

The officer cast a fleeting glance at the pasteboard : 

• “ ‘ Herbert von Hackert-Selchern, stud, jur.,' ” he 
read. “ Hum !” he muttered with a puzzled air ; then, 
as if suddenly remembering, he added : “ Hackert, ah, 
yes! Now, where in the world does he come from ? 

[29] 


30 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Tell the gentleman,” he said aloud, “ that I will see 
him in a few moments.” 

At the entrance to the exercise-ground, a young man 
paced leisurely to and fro. He was a tall, broad- 
shouldered athlete, with a fresh-complexioned face 
that was marked by the crimson streaks of a half-dozen 
healed rapier cuts. His clothes were of the latest 
mode, and were worn with the air of a man of fashion. 
A heavy ebony stick, with an elaborately carved head 
swung from his gloved right hand. 

“ My dear Doring, how do you do ?” he exclaimed, 
when the lieutenant came toward him. “ It is a deuced 
long time since I saw you !” he added, cordially shaking 
the young officer’s extended hand. “ Twelve years or 
more, isn’t it ? It was just before your promotion, don’t 
you remember ? I wore a simple cadet’s jacket then, 
and coveted your epaulettes not a little. There have 
been many changes since that time.” 

Lieutenant Doring, a trifle nonplused, twirled his 
blonde mustache and surveyed the speaker, unable to 
reconcile harmoniously the image of the immature lad 
remembered with this fashionably clad giant. 

“ I should not have recognized you, Hackert, had not 
your card assisted my memory,” he said. “ You have 
grown to such a height. Why, you have become a 
veritable Cyclops — a Roland !” 

Herr Von Hackert laughed, an swung his stick in 
the air. 

“All the result of proper nourishment, Doring !” he 
responded. “ If you swallow daily from fifteen to 
twenty mugs of Lichtenhainer, between times a few 
bottles of Moet-Chandon and eat only beefsteaks, you, 
too, will become a Polyphemus — I swear it ! I tell you, 
Doring, the life of a student is much to be preferred to 
that of a soldier. You know, don’t you, that I ’ve dis- 


VARIOUS CONTRASTS. 


31 


carded the soldier’s jacket for good and all ? I managed 
to get as far as ensign, had the debts of a major, and 
no one to pay them for me. I broke a billiard cue over 
the head of an impertinent -waiter in the restaurant 
frequented by my superiors ; and tied a night-watch- 
man, who presumed to insult me at three o’clock in the 
morning, to a lamp-post. I had to do it, I swear, Doring, 
else the fellow would have arrested me. The colonel 
gave me a lecture, and called my behavior boy’s tricks, 
and that I couldn’t stand. I told him so, too, and — 
well, that put a sudden end to all my plans for pro- 
motion to the field-marshal’s staff, and I quit !” 

Doring could not help but laugh at this recital, al- 
though he did not sympathize with the speaker. He 
was of too serious a nature to admire the levity of the 
student. 

“ And so you have abjured all tactics and strategy 
and now devote yourself solely to the pandect ?” he 
said. 

Hackert elevated his eyebrows and grimaced. 

“ Between ourselves, my dear Doring, the corpus 
juris is not entirely to my liking. The life of a student 
is jolly, the studies frightfully dull ! Fortunately, the 
hours one is obliged to devote to them are few — and it 
is well they are ! A fellow wouldn’t have time for 
them else. As it is, there are only a few hours left for 
sleep. But I have come to the conclusion to change 
my mode of life. Think I ’ll remove from Heidelberg, 
where the very atmosphere is crowded with wine-shop 
reminiscences, and settle down in Berlin, and become a 
solid citizen.” 

“ Then you don’t mean to stop here just yet ?” in- 
quired Doring. 

“ I can’t say, at least, not yet ; I came to attend my 
uncle’s funeral.” 


32 


INViSiBLE hAWdS 


“ What !” ejaculated the lieutenant, starting-. “ Is the 
colonel dead ? I did not know it, I have been out of 
town three days, and returned only last night. How 
very sorry I am ! Such a brave, honest, kind-hearted 
man ! When is the funeral ?” 

“ This afternoon at three ; he will be buried in the 
Jerusalem cemetery,” answered Hackert. 

“ I am glad I heard of it in time. I shall not fail to 
pay the last honors to the brave old soldier. Did you 
arrive before he died ?” 

“ No ; I was notified by telegraph of his death, and 
came on here at once — missing a jolly party that even- 
ing.” 

The lieutenant’s face so plainly betrayed his disap- 
proval of this speech, that Hackert hastened to modify 
it by adding : 

“ The colonel was one of the best of uncles. He 
never failed to respond when I got myself into debt, 
which was pretty often, I must confess ! And he 
wasn’t like some uncles, who always send a lecture with 
their checks. He merely wrote : ‘ If this happens 
again I shall disinherit you !’ — and that was the end of 
it. I confess I was a trifle apprehensive that he had 
kept his word, but, thank my good angel, he did notj 
although the mode of testamentary remembrance is not 
a bit to my liking. Old Wallerstein, my uncle’s solici- 
tor, has told me — But there, don’t let us talk any 
more about it, I was fond of the old man, and used to 
think he might give me some of the affection he show- 
ered on his daughter.” 

“ Ah, yes, poor Fraulein Lucia ! The poor girl will 
now be quite alone in the world.” 

“Humph, don’t waste your pity, my dear Doring !” 
with something of a sneer retorted the student. “ Lucia 
is one of those self-sufficient persons who don’t require 





“WHY SO MELANCHOLY, 


waldau T*— *S'e« Paf/e 7 




/ 


VARIOUS CONTRASTS, 


33 


companionship and sympathy. One of these days she 
will marry — and I don’t envy the beggar she will elect 
to honor by her preference. Ugh-h-h, I shiver with 
cold whenever I look into her black eyes ! And yet, one 
hundred thousand thalers^ — thalers, not marks, mind 
you, my dear fellow ! — ought to possess enough caloric 
to counteract the ice in her nature. But I must not dcr 
tain you any longer. I came to invite you to dine 
with me at the Hillers. Don’t refuse ; remember you 
are among the first of my old friends I have looked up.” 

“You are very kind, Hackert,” returned the lieuten- 
ant, “ but unfortunately I cannot accept your invita- 
tion. I shall be engaged here until after two, and I 
want to be at the cemetery before three. Some other 
time we will arrange for a dinner. I am glad you 
looked me up, and regret that I had to receive you in 
the barracks yard.” 

“ Don’t mention it ; every one according to his voca- 
tion,” laughingly responded the student. “ My recep- 
tion-room is the wine-shop — my greeting a toast ! An 
revoir." 

The lieutenant returned to the exercise-ground, and 
Hackert, swinging his stick and humming an air from 
the “ sauntered toward the cab which was 

waiting for him. 

When Lieutenant Doring, at the conclusion of the 
riding lesson, entered his comfortable apartments in the 
barracks, he found there two letters, one from Coun- 
selor Dreyfuss, the other from Baron Menken. Each 
contained a brief announcement of Colonel von Hack- 
ert’s death and the hour of the funeral. The counsel- 
or’s epistle, however, seemed to possess a peculiar 
interest for the young soldier ; he stepped to the window 
and closely scrutinized the envelope. A smile passed 
over his grave, handsome face ; he had found what he 


34 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


sought : only a faint, almost imperceptible mark in the 
left hand corner of the envelope, but it was evidently 
satisfactory. He returned to the writing-table, lighted 
a wax-taper and held the envelope over the flame. 
Directly there appeared the message in pale-blue char- 
acters : “ A thousand greetings from Annie.” Doring 
pressed his lips to the envelope, then held it in the 
the flame of the candle until it had burned to ashes. 

When Lieutenant Doring arrived at the hall in which 
the funeral ceremonies for the dead warrior were to be 
held, he found the spacious chamber already crowded. 
Colonel von Hackert-Selchern had occupied a promi- 
nent position in Berlin society,; and had won, wherever 
he went, the respect and admiration of his associates ; 
consequently, the number of persons who came to pay 
their last respects to the deceased hero was large. 

The casket and bier were covered with garlands and 
flowers, the dead soldier’s orders, his two iron crosses 
and the saber, which had had its blade broken at Mars- 
la-Lour, rested on a cushion of snowy azaleas at the 
head of the bier. 

Close by the side of the garrison chaplain, a white- 
haired old man, whose tones betrayed his emotion, 
stood the colonel’s daughter Lucia, looking, in her 
somber garments, with pallid face and deeply shadowed 
eyes, like a sorrowing Niobe who has lost all she held 
dear on earth. But not even in this moment of extreme 
anguish had her pride deserted her. She had gently 
but firmly refused the arm General Von Steinetz, an 
old comrade of her father’s, had offered for her sup- 
port, and stood proudly upright, with only the deep 
despair in her countenance betraying the torturing 
anguish of her soul. 

Behind her towered the stately and distinguished 
form of Baron von Menken.^ To-day the baron wore 


VARIOUS CONTRASTS. 


35 


the captain’s uniform, in which he had ridden, ten 
years before, across the Rhine. The simple cuirassier’s 
jacket rendered still more conspicuous his athletic pro- 
portions, and contrasted strangely with the grave, 
passionless features, which would have better suited a 
gold-embroidered chamberlain-robe. There was a look 
of suffering in the baron’s face, or was it only the pale 
glimmer which fell on it from the green window-shades 
that gave the ashen hue to his cheeks ? 

Against one of the pillars which supported the arched 
roof leaned Elimar Waldau, his slender form wrapped 
in a costly fur cloak, almost hidden behind a half- 
dozen glittering uniforms. So intent was the young 
artist upon the touching words which fell from the 
chaplain’s lips that he did not see the burning glances 
which were directed toward him from a pair of lovely 
dark eyes. Frau Von Hilgersdorf, who was even more 
bewitching than usual in her black gown, with its glit- 
tering jet ornaments, occupied a position on the oppo- 
site side of the hall from Waldau ; and a close observer 
might easily have seen that her thoughts were not with 
the solemn ceremonies. Counselor Dreyfuss with his 
wife and niece was also present, as were Lieutenants 
Markwitz and Von Wedell, Doctor Rahlau and “ Still- 
Life Eugene.” These gentlemen, to-day, were hardly 
recognizable, with their down-cast eyes and serious 
countenances. 

At the conclusion of the clergyman’s address, six 
sturdy Ulans raised the coffin from the bier, the garrison 
band softly played : “ Wie sie so sanft ruJicn” and the 
funeral procession was set in motion. 

At this moment Lucia, who had felt that her strength 
was gradually failing her, uttered a low moaning cry, 
and sank, half unconscious, to the stone floor. Baron 
yon Menken was the first to reach her, She opened 


36 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


her eyes as he bent over to raise her in his arms, and 
the g-lance which met his was so filled with abhorrence 
that he stepped back involuntarily. Others now came 
forward ; Elimar Waldau sought to break his way to 
the side of the fainting girl, but Menken’s iron grasp 
caught his arm. 

“ Let me go !” whispered Elimar, struggling to re- 
lease himself, but the baron held him fast, and drew 
him towards the door. 

Lucia was carried to her carriage ; Frau Von Sporken, 
a near relative of General Von Steinetz, took her place 
beside her ; then the carriage rolled away. 

A few minutes later three salvos from a company of 
rifles reverberated through the cemetery ; the grave had 
closed over the old warrior, and above the snow-mantled 
earth hung a gray smoke-curtain, like that which had 
enveloped the battle-fields on- which the deceased hero 
had bravely fought and conquered. The salvo was a 
last greeting from old comrades. 

The assembled company dispersed gradually. The 
long line of carriages waiting at the cemetery gates 
was broken. Those who had come on foot sauntered 
slowly in small groups toward the city. 

Lieutenant Boring was hastening to join the coun- 
selor’s party, when his arm was unceremoniously seized 
by Herbert von Hackert, who drew him toward a car- 
riage, exclaiming : 

“ Come, you are not going to escape me this time, 
my dear fellow. It is so savagely cold that we must 
have a bowl of grog to prevent the congelation of the 
blopd in our veins ! Coachman, to the cafe Belle-Al- 
liance, and in double-quick time, too, do you hear ? 
Now, my dear Boring — ” taking his seat beside the lieu- 
tenant, and crushing the unaccustomed “ stove-pipe ” 
more firmly on his head — “ now we can enjoy an old- 


VARIOUS CONTRASTS. 


37 


fashioned chat ! I must confess I am g-lad the cere- 
mony is over. Funerals always make me feel sort of 
mournful.” 

“ I don’t know why you shouldn’t feel so in this case,” 
a trifle pointedly, responded the lieutenant, who was 
annoyed by Hackert’s levity. “ The man whom we 
have just laid to rest was a near relation, and, more- 
over, a man to whom — as you have frankly acknowl- 
edged — you are deeply indebted for many favors.” 

“Oh, come now, Boring, you misunderstand me, I 
swear ! Of course, I am sorry that the old boy is 
dead and all that ! What I meant was I always feel so 
uncomfortable at a funeral. It isn’t pleasant, now is it, 
to have several hundred people gaping at you ? Now 
there is my cousin Lucia — she ’s a wonderful girl. Would 
you believe that she herself made all the arrangements 
for the funeral ? Had to, in fact, because old Frau Von 
Sporken, who is staying with her, has a mind just like 
her body, a round nought. In addition to the hundred 
and one incidents consequent upon the death of my 
uncle, was one that certainly did not serve to strengthen 
. Lucia’s energy. I heard of the affair only this morn- 
ing, or I should have gone at once to offer my services 
to the poor girl. The night my uncle died there was 
a burglary committed in the house.” 

“A burglaryl” interrupted Boring, in a shocked 
voice. “ How dreadful ! How much was stolen ?” 

“ Nothing, or rather they have not yet discovered 
that anything has been taken, and that is what makes 
the affair so mysterious. I should consider it a bad 
joke, had not Wallerstein, the solicitor, assured me that 
the safe had been opened secretly. You know, per- 
haps. that the safe is in my uncle’s study ? He, as I 
have reason to know, was always extremely careful of 
his money, and always kept it in the vaults of the bank. 


38 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Therefore, the iron walls of the safe in the study en- 
closed only a few thousand marks, which would have 
been worth taking at any rate, but the money was not 
touched. The morning after my uncle’s death, the safe 
was found open, but nothing seemed to have been dis- 
turbed.” 

“That is very singular !” observed Doring. “Very 
remarkable indeed ! Do they know how much money 
was in the safe before it was opened ?” 

“ To a penny ! Lucia said her father always made it 
a point to mark the amount he put into the safe on a 
slip of paper, which he pasted on the inside of the 
door, and this slip was there as usual.” 

“ Then the inference must be that the thief was after 
something beside money. Have they any suspicion ?” 

“ None whatever ! All the servants are honest folk, 
who have been for years in my uncle’s service. And 
yet the thief — he can hardly be called that, however — 
was familiar with the locality. How he got into the 
study through my uncle’s bedroom is a mystery, as 
there were people up in the room all night. I can 
imagine how frightened Lucia was the next morning 
when the discovery was made. As nothing of value 
was taken, my cousin thinks it best to keep the affair a 
secret ; but the solicitor informed the police, and I dare 
say they will ferret some explanation of the riddle. 
But, here we are ! Come, you shall learn what a de- 
licious bowl of grog can be brewed here. I have tested 
its quality, and can swear to its excellence.” 




CHAPTER IV. 

— THE ORPHAN. 

Genuine March weather reigned in the streets of the 
Residenz. A gloomy sky, heavy with lowering clouds, 
hung above the roofs. The wind, which was cold and 
piercing, drove the mingled rain, sleet and snow against 
the window-panes of the breakfast-room in the Hackert 
mansion, which appeared all the more cheerful because 
of the unfriendly weather outside. 

August, the butler, was busied stirring the coals in 
the open grate to a brighter blaze, the while exchang- 
ing jesting remarks with Johanna, who was arranging 
the breakfast-table. A sort of Platonic love affair had 
been going on for years between the two ; a love affair 
that manifested itself chiefly in mutual bantering and 
teasing. The merry war was again in progress this 
morning between the breakfast-table and the fireplace, 
and was carried on at so lively a pace that the combat- 
ants failed to notice the opening of the door. Only 
when their young mistress, leaning on Frau Von 
Sporken’s arm, had crossed the threshold, did they be- 
come aware of the ladies’ presence. Johanna bent her 
flaming face over the coffee-urn, while August sought 
to hide his confusion by removing hurriedly the plates 

[39J 


40 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


from place to place. Fortunately the singular behavior 
of the servants was not noticed by either of the ladies. 
Lucia was too weak, and Frau von Sporken too solic- 
itous concerning the comfort of her young charge, who, 
one could see plainly, was recovering from a severe 
illness. 

Frau Von Sporken, who had, at the request of her 
cousin. General Von Steinetz, consented to assume the 
post of dame d'Jionneiir to Colonel Von Hackert’s 
orphaned daughter, was a widow. Sixty years of bjtter 
experience and care had bleached her hair to a silvery 
white but had not had the power to rob her kindly 
heart of its cheery unselfishness. She was one of those 
rare creatures who are always doing some kindly act 
for a fellow-being, and who yet are never justly appre- 
ciated. Quietly, unobtrusively she performed her acts 
of charity, and was happiest when she could do so un- 
observed and unnoticed. 

From her earliest childhood^ Lucia von Hackert had 
known the excellent woman, and had learned to love 
and value her. She was therefore overjoyed when the 
widow consented to leave her own home and take up 

her quarters in the more stately mansion in K 

Street. 

“ The heavens show no signs of rejoicing over my 
convalescence,” observed the young girl, smiling faintly 
and pointing toward the window, against which the 
rain and sleet were beating. “ This is a real March 
storm. I am afraid it will break off all the young 
spring buds.” 

“ Storms,” responded the widow, “ accompany all 
changes in our hearts as in the mighty cosmos. Every 
storm is followed by fresh growth and bloom, and so, 
my dear child, I think you may look on this March 
tempest as a symbol that fresh hopes will spring in 


THE ORPHAN. 


41 


your heart after the sorrowful ordeal through which 
you have passed. 

Lucia lightly pressed the old lady’s hand. 

“Your own good heart, dear aunt,” she returned, 

“ sees the best and most beautiful in everything. You 
are right. Every sorrow, even the greatest, must sooner 
or later find relief. That is one of nature’s immutable ' 
laws. I shall soon be quite well again, and then we 
will carry out our plans of travel, will we not ?” 

“ Yes, dear child, we will hunt up some retired nook 
where we can spend the summer quietly, then go either 
to Italy or Switzerland for the autumn months.” While 
she was speaking she signed to Johanna to fetch the 
bronze card-receiver from a side-table. “ See here, my 
dear,” she went on, turning over the cards, “ how 
many people thought of you while you were tossing in 
delirium on your sick-bed. Only see what a number of 
them came either in person or sent to inquire about 
you.” 

A pleased smile passed over the girl’s pale face. 

“ How very kind of them !” she repeated several 
times, as she took up one after another of the cards. 
“ I had no idea that I might count on so many kind 
friends ! ‘ August Dreyfuss, counselor,’ ‘ Theresa Drey- 
fuss,’ ‘Annie Burger ’ — the entire counselor family! And 
here with their cards is that of Lieutenant Doring. 

' That looks significant ! Do you know, auntie, I believe 
there is something serious between Annie and the 
blonde artillery officer ! You are acquainted with the 
lieutenant, aren’t you ?” 

“ Only very slightly, my darling. He was introduced 
to me at the counselor’s, and made a very favorable 
impression on me. I should be delighted if Annie 
made a love marriage. She deserves to be happy, for 
she is an excellent girl. But I am afraid the counselor 


42 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


has more ambitious views. He is a worthy man, honest 
and true to the core, but he is not without his weak- 
/ nesses, and one of them is vanity. He would prefer 
his niece to marry an aristocrat. 1 wish my knowl- 
edge of human nature deceived me in this instance, 
but 1 fear it does not !” 

' “ I should be so sorry,” slowly repeated Lucia. “ I 

am fond of Annie, and wish her all the happiness that 
can come to one of my sex. She is the exact opposite 
of Frau Von Hilgersdorf, who, I see, has also honored 
us with a card. The young widow is one of the hand- 
somest women I ever saw, but I must confess I am not 
specially attracted by her.” 

“ Nor am I,” responded Frau Von Sporken. “ I dare 
say, however,” she hastened to add, “that her peculiar 
fate has had much to do with forming her rather 
problematic character. She was a mere girl when she 
married General Von Hilgersdorf to save her father 
from bankruptcy. The general was a morose old 
hypochondriac ; and what the poor girl must have en- 
dured, the three years of her married life, cannot be 
imagined ! I don’t believe she is bad at heart. Her 
embittered youth must bear the blame for her present 
frivolity. She is, / think, to be pitied instead of cen- 
sured.” 

*.“1 do pity her, Tantchcn^’ earnestly exclaimed the 
young girl. “Just think! Very little older than I 
and has already endured so much !” 

“Yes, she is to be pitied,” repeated the elder lady, 
thoughtfully ; “ but,” she added with some hesitation, 
“ I shouldn’t want your sympathy to lead you to a 
•closer intimacy with Frau Von Hilgersdorf.” 

Lucia was silent for a moment ; then, keeping her 
eyes on the coffee-spoon, with which she was idly toy- 
ing, she replied : 


THE ORPHAN. 


43 


“ I have always rather avoided than sought Frau 
Von Hilgersdorfs society, and I shall continue to avoid 
an intimacy with her. Auntie,” suddenly looking up 
into the old lady’s face, “ do you imagine that I am not 
strong enough to hold myself aloof from evil influ- 
ences ?” 

“ By no means, my darling ! You misunderstand 
me,” returned Frau Von Sporken, tenderly pressing the 
hand Lucia extended toward her. “ But as I have to 
watch over you with a mother’s eye, you must occa- 
sionally allow me to caution you. But, enough of this 
subject ! Your cousin Herbert was here yesterday. 
He has removed to Berlin, and came to pay you his in- 
troductory visit.” 

Lucia’s lips curled slightly. She was not very favor- 
ably disposed toward her kinsman, of whom she had 
not heard much that was good ; besides, she resented 
his uncousinly neglect of her during the first heavy 
days of mourning. She repressed the ironical ob- 
servation which rose to her lips, however, and said, 
instead : 

“ I shall be glad if he is more successful here than he 
has been heretofore. He has done little to add honor 
to the name of Hackert-Selchern. 

“He is still young, and must sow his wild oats,” was 
the elder lady’s charitable rejoinder. “We will hope 
so, at least. I had only a few words’ conversation with 
him, but they gave me the impression that the crop he 
has to dispose of is a considerable one ! He is your 
nearest living relation. Lux ; consequently we must 
bear with his shortcomings, and have him here occa- 
sionally. Sans gene, of course, as we shall not entertain 
largely.” 

“ As you wish, dear aunt,” assented Lucia. “ I leave 
all social arrangements to you.” 


44 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


She rose, stepped to the elder lady’s side and, bend- 
ing tenderly over the silvered head, said in a low tone 

“ Have you forgotten what you promised me, Tant- 
chen ?" 

Frau Von Sporken passed her cool, soft hand over 
the girl’s cheek, and replied : 

“No, my dear child, I have not forgotten that I 
promised to let you go into your papa’s rooms so soon 
as you were strong enough. I am afraid you are still 
too weak to bear the agitation. Better wait a few days 
longer, my dear. You know the doctor says it is abso- 
lutely necessary that you should be perfectly quiet.” 

“ But, my dear aunt, just look at me ! Am not I my 
old self again ?” exclaimed Lucia, stepping to the mirror 
over the mantel. 

The image reflected in the polished surface startled 
her. She would not have believed that the four weeks’ 
illness could leave such deep shadows underneath her 
eyes ; could rob her cheeks of their rosy color and leave 
them so thin and wan. Lucia noted these changes, 
but turned with a smile on her pale lips to Frau Von 
Sporken, who was standing at her shoulder, and said 
jestingly : 

“ Another week, Tantchai^ then I shall look the sarne 
old Lucia ! I feel just as well "and strong as ever. 
Strong enough, at all events, to bear all sorrowful 
recollections. You may, without fear of evil results, 
allow me to go into papa’s rooms. The visit will com- 
fort instead of grieve me.” 

Frau Von Sporken was about to yield to the young 
girl’s entreaties and ring for the keys of the colonel’s 
rooms, which had not been opened since the funeral, 
when August entered the room with a visiting-card. 

“ The gentleman begs the ladies to receive him to- 
day,” he said, presenting the card to Frau Von Sporken, 


THE ORPHAN. 


45 


“ It is Herr Von Holgen, commissioner of police,” 
she said, glancing at the card. “ He has been here 
before — indeed, three times — but you were, of course, 
too ill to see him. You know what he wants, my dear?” 

Lucia’s face flushed, and a look of annoyance passed 
across her features. 

“Yes, I can guess,” she replied, rather irritably. 
“ Solicitor Wallerstein acted unwisely when he informed 
the police of that unimportant affair. There was not 
the slightest necessity for his doing so.” She turned to 
August and added: “You may show the gentleman 
into the small reception-room. We will see him there.” 

Police Commissioner Von Holgen, a stately man of 
middle age, in whom one recognized at a first glance 
the former army officer, greeted the two ladies with a 
courtly bow. 

“ I trust you will pardon this untimely intrusion,” he 
began at once, addressing Lucia. “ Unfortunately, 
when one is a slave to official duty, conventionalities 
cannot be considered. You will guess, doubtless, that 
my early visit has to do with the burglary.” 

Lucia bowed assent, and motioned Herr Holgen to 
be seated. 

“ The record we have of the affair,” he resumed, tak- 
ing a chair, “is lacking in detail. You will, therefore, 
oblige me very much by answering a few questions. 
First of all, gracious miss, can you depend on your 
servants as being entirely trustworthy ?” 

“ I answered that question in the affirmative the 
morning the safe was found open,” returned Lucia. 
“ I should like to repeat what I said then — that I do not 
consider the affair of the slightest importance. It can- 
not be called a burglary — rather a trifling neglect, 
which might happen very easily in such an hour of ex- 
citement.” 


46 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Herr Von Holgen smiled faintly and passed his gloved 
hand over his blonde beard. 

“ I can’t say that I quite agree with you, gracious 
miss,” he responded, after a moment’s deliberation. 
“ I hope, however, that we shall very soon be able to 
decide whether you are right or not. We were on the 
point of dropping the matter, as you requested, when 
we received an anonymous notification— ” 

“ An anonymous notification ?” interrupted both Lucia 
and Frau Von Sporken. 

The commissioner bowed and thrust his hand into his 
breast-pocket, from which he took a letter. 

“ I have no reason to keep this a secret from you,” 
he said. “ You may be able to give me a clue. Is the 
writing familiar to you ?” 

Lucia looked closely at the envelope — the charac- 
ters were large, stiff and ill-formed — and shook her 
head. 

“ I cannot recall ever seeing any writing similar to 
it,” she said, slowly. 

“ It is not likely that you have,” returned Herr von 
Holgen. “ The writer would be careful to disguise his 
hand. Perhaps the affair will appear more important 
when I tell you that this notification asserts that im- 
portant documents were taken from your father’s 
safe ?” 

“ That is hardly likely, as papa always kept a list of 
everything he had in the .safe. There is no mention 
of any documents in the list we found in papa’s 
desk.” 

“ Might not your father have neglected to make a 
note of the papers ?” suggested the commissioner. 

“ He might have, but I don’t think he did. Papa 
was always very methodical and extremely careful 
concerning money matters.” 


THE ORPHAN. 


47 


Herr Von Holgen toyed with the glove he had drawn 
from his left hand. 

“ The documents could not have been of much 
value,” he observed slowly, “ else they would have been 
mentioned in the will. They may be family papers — 
documents which some one may have an interest in 
possessing ?” 

Lucia drew her arched brows slightly closer together. 
The commissioner’s tone did not please her. 

“ The Hackert-Selchern family is so well known,” 
she responded proudly, “ that I cannot imagine what 
interest any papers concerning them could have for a 
stranger.” 

“And yet,” after a pause, returned the commissioner, 
“ I cannot think of any other reason. However, I will 
be as brief as possible, miss, for I see that you are 
still very weak. I believe August, the butler, and 
Baron Von Menken were the only watchers in the 
chamber of death the night your father died ?” 

Lucia nodded assent. 

“The baron is an intimate friend of the family, I 
believe ?” 

“ He was a near friend of papa’s for many years,” 
replied Lucia. “ He was here when papa died.” 

“ It is singular,” thoughtfully pursued the commis- 
sioner, “ that neither the baron nor August heard any 
noise in the study. August swears that while he slept 
the baron remained awake. You, gracious miss, heard 
nothing unusual, I presume ?” 

“ I never closed my eyes the entire night, but I heard 
nothing,” was the reply. 

“ And the keys of the safe were found the next 
morning in the place where your papa usually kept 
them ?” continued Herr Von Holgen, making several 
entries in his note-book. 


48 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Yes — in the little watch-pocket which hung at the 
head of his bed. No one beside myself knew where 
he kept them.” 

“ Are you quite certain on that point, miss 

“ Quite certain, commissioner,” 

“ I have but one more favor to ask, said Von Holgen, 
rising. “ May I see your father’s study ?” 

Lucia bowed without speaking ; and Frau Von Spor- 
ken led the way toward the closed rooms. 

No changes had been made in the colonel’s study 
since his death. Even the papers on the writing-table 
lay as he had left them when he became too ill to 
leave his bed ; the pen, with its carved holder, lay on a 
sheet of note-paper that bore the old soldier’s vigorous 
chirography. 

Herr Von Holgen walked directly to the window, the 
only one in the little octagon-shaped room. He opened 
it and looked out into the garden, which was encircled 
by tall buildings. Close underneath the window was a 
slight projection, the roof of a doorway in the ground 
floor. From this projection a thief might easily swing 
himself to the window-sill ; but Von Holgen shook his 
head. It would be impossible to open the window from 
the outside. 

He then turned toward the safe. He scrutinized 
closely the locks and the various compartments, care- 
fully noting everything in his book. Shortly afterward 
he took his leave. 

As the door closed upon him Lucia sank exhausted 
into a chair. 

“ I wish everything concerning that annoying affair 
were forgotten !” she exclaimed fretfully. “ I am con- 
vinced that all these examinations and inquiries will 
lead to nothing.” 

Frau Von Sporken made no reply. She was busied 


THE ORPHAN. 


49 


closing" the compartments in the safe and restoring to 
their places the objects the commissioner had displaced 
in his quest for information. 

When she had concluded the task, she came toward 
Lucia and said : 

“ The commissioner’s official curiosity has been too 
much for yoiir strength, my dear child. I can see that 
plainly ! Come, let me take you to your room for a 
brief rest. I shall give orders to August not to admit 
.any more visitors to-day. We shall have time enough 
to see callers when you are quite well again.” 

Lucia took the offered arm, and with an air of utter 
weariness allowed herself to be led into her own 


room. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE INSEPARABLES. 

Baron Von Menken was a welcome visitor in the most 
exclusive houses in the Residenz. His courteous man- 
ner, his brilliant conversation, his esprit and inexhaust- 
ible wit, which was as harmless as it was pungent, were 
attributes which won for him the admiration of every- 
one upon whom he chose to bestow his favor. 

There were a few persons, however, who maintained 
that, with all the baron’s seeming frankness, a certain 
mystery enveloped his personality. Countess Wald- 
berg, a dowager of seventy-three years, who had at one 
time been lady-in-waiting at one of the minor courts, 
was the first to detect the “ mystery ” in Von Menken’s 
character. This discovery, however, did not detract 
from the baron’s popularity. It served rather to aug- 
ment his influence and make him more interesting — to 
the gentler sex, at all events. 

The majority of Menken’s acquaintances among the 
sterner sex saw in him a “ superficial nature that un- 
derstood how to make friends quickly.” A very few 
[50] 


THE INSEPARABLES. 


51 


asserted, too, that he was “ a man who wished to appear 
other than he was.” His blasd air, his apparent indo- 
lence, were only masks to hide his real self. Even his 
features, they asserted, were so entirely under his con- 
trol that he could without difficulty assume any expres- 
sion suitable to the occasion. Once, when one of his 
well-meaning “ friends ” frankly told Menken that 
people said he understood how to manage even the 
wrinkles on his face, the baron, with perfect serious- 
ness, acknowledged that the accusation was true, that 
he had taken lessons from a celebrated mimic, in order 
that he might be able, should he happen to lose his 
fortune, to adopt the remunerative calling of a panto- 
mimist. 

Such a misfortune, however, was not likely to over- 
take the baron, for it was well known that he was an 
extremely prudent man concerning all financial trans- 
actions. Just how much he was worth had puzzled 
many a member of society. Some maintained that he 
was rich — very rich ! Others pretended to know that he 
was only what might be termed “ comfortably off,” but 
that he knew so well how to manage his expenses 
that he appeared to be a person of great wealth. 

“ His style of living, however, left no doubt that he 
had command of considerable means. He occupied 
handsome apartments in one of the most fashionable 
streets, and possessed tastes and inclinations which 
only great wealth can satisfy. Both of his racers, 
Hinkepinke and Lord Radcliff, were well, and favor- 
ably known on every race-course in Germany. The 
pedigrees of his kennels, on his hunting-estate in Silesia, 
were as long as any in the country. His wine-cellar 
was celebrated for the age and excellence of the vin- 
tage ; his “ little dinners ” were the masterpieces of a 
noted chef. 


52 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


There was one passion, usually found in a man of 
the world like Menken, which the baron did not possess • 
the love of play. Scores of times he had positively re- 
fused to take part in a hastily improvised rubber for 
small stakes, declaring that he never touched cards, 
nor would he keep a supply of the “ pasteboards ” in 
his house. 

This his acquaintances knew, and as they generally 
preferred a little game after a good dinner, they always 
brought their cards with them. 

Count Sturen, a young cavalry officer, was the one 
to institute this “habit,” and from that day it became 
the unfailing custom for one or another of the baron’s 
guests to have in his pocket — “ quite by accident,” of 
course — a pack or two of cards. 

Menken did not frown upon this persistent determi- 
nation of his guests to gamble in his house ; but, with 
a cigar between his lips, a cup of coffee within easy 
reach of his hand, he would sit for hours and watch 
the game and the changing expressions on the faces of 
the players. He would say at such times that he was 
studying physiognomy, and that his guests should not 
heed him. And they did not ; but played on merrily, 
keeping strictly within bounds of the stakes Menken 
himself had arranged. 

There was a good deal of argument concerning the 
cause of Menken’s refusal to play — he would not join 
even a game of whist or dcartd — but nothing definite 
could be determined on. Menken himself admitted 
that he used to be fond of a “ hazard at fortune,” but 
that he had become too nervous to depend on chance. 
This was not a satisfactory reason, for Menken’s nerves 
were of iron. Had they not been, he would not have 
been the excellent marksman and intrepid rider he 
was. His aversion for gaming must, therefore, have 


THE INSEPARABLES. 


53 


a deeper cause ! That which was generally known 
about Menken’s past was little enough. He had 
studied jurisprudence, had been in the diplomatic ser- 
vice, had once filled the office of chamberlain at a 
minor court. In the war between France and Ger- 
many he had been an officer in a cuirassier regiment, 
and had distinguished himself by bravery. At the 
conclusion of the war he had traveled for several 
years, returning at last to settle down in Berlin, where, 
as it was said, he “ lived on his interest,” and played a 
not insignificent rdle in society. 

This was, in general, the biography of the “mys- 
terious ” Baron Attokar von Menken. 

Beside Colonel Von Hackert, who had been a brother 
in arms, and a warm friend, there was one other to 
whom Menken opened his heart. This was Elimar Wal- 
dau. The young artist had had a sorrowful childhood. 
His father, a physician of some celebrity, was on a fair 
way to accumulate a fortune, when a serious illness 
overtook him and rendered him incapable of further 
practice. A few years sufficed to reduce the now help- 
less family to poverty, and a poverty that was doubly 
hard to bear because of the desire to keep it hidden 
from the world. Those were bitter days for the once 
prosperous Waldau family, days of terrible struggles to 
keep up appearances. 

The doctor would fain have quitted Berlin and hid- 
den himself in some country village, where they were 
unknown, and where they might reveal their impover- 
ished condition, but his wife, who was a “ born gentle- 
woman,” rebelled with all her weak might. 

Elimar’s mother was a daughter of the house of Von 
Bartenklau, whose entire wealth lay in an imposing 
coat of arms and a long pedigree. She was past the 
bloom of youth when Doctor Waldau wooed her for 


54 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


love’s sake ! The penniless gentlewoman accepted her 
lowly-born suitor, not because she loved him, but be- 
cause she had long been forced to give up all hope of 
winning a mate her equal in rank. 

True nobility suits itself to all circumstances, and 
takes pride in bearing with dignity even the trials of 
life. A false education, however, had crushed these 
admirable principles from Frau Mathilde Waldau’s 
heart. vShe was fond of display, and sought by out- 
ward show to indemnify herself for her mdsalliance^ 
and for the economies she had been forced to endure 
under the paternal roof. So long as the doctor enjoyed 
good health she was able to indulge her extravagant 
tastes, but when illness robbed him of the capacity to 
earn a livelihood, she was forced to return to the old 
habits of economy. This was a heavy trial for the 
pleasure-loving woman, who added by her embittered 
reproaches mental suffering to the physical tortures 
endured hy her husband. 

After awhile came the doctor’s release — he died, ' 
weary of his life’s brilliant misery. 

Frau Mathilde was now alone in the world, a help- 
less, penniless widow with a son, a lad yet in his teens. 

In her despair she swallowed her pride, and applied for 
help to a distant kinsman who was reputed to be rich, 
and whom she had once, while yet she hoped to make a 
more brilliant marriage, refused. 

Her appeal was successful. She received from her 
quondam suitor a modest annuity that enabled her to 
live without care, but allowed her no extravagances. 

Elimar was, at this time, seventeen years old, and the 
question of a career for him forced itself upon his 
mother. He was a handsome lad, who had inherited 
his father’s tender heart and his mother’s good looks. 
He possessed an intelligent brain and clever talents, 


THE INSEPARABLES. 


55 


which promised well for his future. Unfortunately, 
there was lacking the strong hand to train and bring to 
fruit the embryo germ in him. At first he thought he 
preferred a musical career ; but after several months’ 
diligent study, he felt that he was endowed with another 
talent it might be well to cultivate. He then applied 
himself to the study of art, and very soon demonstrated 
that he had decided wisely. His success, it is true, was 
not known beyond the circles of the academy ; for more 
important work Elimar still lacked the energy, the in- 
centive. 

The boy was, like his mother, fond of pleasure 
and luxury. As Frau Mathilde devoted her annuity 
chiefly to supplying her own wants, Elimar found him- 
self at last compelled to work for money. He suc- 
ceeded passably ; but his talents suffered by it, as the 
“ pot-boilers ” he was forced to produce prevented 
higher work. Only once had he succeeded in complet- 
ing a work of real merit. His “ Vestal Virgin ” had 
won the approval of the critics and — what was more to 
the point with him — found a purchaser. 

The purchaser was Baron Von Menken who, when 
he sought the young artist in his studio, found him in 
an agony of gri^f. The young man was just returned 
from the funeral of his mother, whom a suddep illness 
had carried away. 

Menken’s sympathies were won by the poignant 
sorrows of the youth in whom he had detected, with 
the eye of a connoisseur, a genius that was worth cul- 
tivating. 

The acquaintance between the man of the world and 
the unknown artist ripened into warm friendship. 
Menken very soon won a controlling influence over the 
easily led Elimar, who looked up to the older man as 
to an elder brother. The two were seen so frequently 


56 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


together, that society dubbed them “ the insepar- 
ables.” 

The baron’s friendship, however, had not, thus far, 
resulted for Elimar’s good. The young man had been 
drawn into the gay, social world. Its amusements 
weakened his desire to work — his interest in his art. 
The readiness with which the baron placed his check- 
book at his young friend’s disposal was another injury. •• 
Elimar forgot that his benefactor’s gifts, though cheer- 
fully bestowed, were only alms ; and he was in a fair 
way of losing all the energy he had. But circumstances 
were very soon to develop which would rouse him from 
his sluggish existence. 



V 



CHAPTER VI. 

“ D I A V O L E T T A 

There was a sharp peal at the door-bell of Elimar 
Waldau’s apartment. After a considerable interval the 
door was opened slowly and cautiously a few inches, 
and an old woman’s face peered from the narrow aper- 
ture into the corridor. She nodded in a friendly man- 
ner to the caller, and laying her forefinger against her 
toothless mouth, said, in an admonitory whisper : 

“ Hush ! My young gentleman is still asleep.” 

“ What, still sleeping, and nearly ten o’clock ? Just 
let me come in, Susanne, and I ’ll fetch the idle fellow 
out of the feathers !” 

Without heeding the old servant’s remonstrance, 
Eugene Blenkner pushed past her, strode through the 
studio and into Elimar’s bed-chamber. 

Here he was obliged to pause a moment to let his 
eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. Then he 
stepped to the window, drew back the heavy curtains 
and flung open the sash, letting a flood of light and 
fresh air into the room. 

The refreshing breath swept across the sleeper’s 

[ 57 ] 


58 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


face ; he stirred, lifted himself from the pillow and 
stared blinkingly at the intruder. 

“ Wake up, my heart, and sing !” in a dramatic tone 
recited Blenkner. “ I do believe you would have slept 
until noon if I had not roused you ! Just behold 
this enchanting spring morning! How can you allow 
the slumber god to detain you in his fetters ? You Ve 
been dissipating again. I’ll venture — far into the small 
hours ?” 

Waldau lay back on his pillow and rubbed his eyes 
sleepily. A faint smile passed over his pale face, then 
gave place again to the little frown of discontent which 
usually lingered between his brows. 

“ Ah-h, yes,” he yawned, “ it was rather an excitable 
evening — a chaotic one, I may say. B-r-r, I shudder 
when I think of it !” 

He closed his eyes, as if to shut out the vision which 
recalled the memory. 

“ Still-Life Eugene’s ” curiosity was aroused. 

“And where 'did this hurly-burly take place?” he 
asked, seating himself by the bedside. “ And who was 
there ? Menken for one, naturally.” 

“ Menken ?” repeated Elimar, with a laugh. “ Not 
he I Had he been present, the affair would not have 
terminated in such bacchanalia. Menken is too dig- 
nified to countenance such a row ! The affair, an im- 
promptu one, began quietly enough. I met Lieutenant 
Doring and young Hackert — you know him, the colonel’s 
nephew, a feather-brain, but a good sort of chap — they 
were going to drink a pint of Rothspohn — no more — 
and insisted on my joining them. Mon Dieii, what that 
pint led to! Unfortunately, when we got to Julitz’s, 
we encountered a lot of fellows who were celebrating 
Pringsberg’s birthday. We, of course, had to join them, 
and after emptying the punch-bowl, we all drove to 


DIAVOLETTA. 


59 


(( 


the bowling-alley and — But enough ! I did not get 
home until five o’clock this morning, and it is the last 
time I take part in a drinking-bout of that sort.” 

“ Yes, I dare say,” dryly observed Blenkner, adding 
with more interest : ‘‘'There was some betting at the 
alley, I presume. Who won ?” 

Elimar yawned again before replying : 

“ I believe I was the chief winner. Just look in my 
pockets yonder and see how much is there. I have an 
indistinct recollection of putting a whole handful of 
gold and paper into my pockets. I may have spent 
some of it before leaving the alley. I can’t remember.” 

Blenkner shook his head in disapproval of such care- 
lessness ; and the bitter envy he cherished in his heart 
toward his more fortunate fellow-craftsman was in- 
creased on hearing of Elimar’s lucky winnings. He 
picked up the various garments lying scattered about 
on the floor. In the pockets of the coat, waistcoat and 
trousers were gold and silver coins and carelessly 
crushed banknotes. Blenkner smoothed a place on the 
bed-covers and proceeded to count the money ; while 
Elimar, with half-closed eyes and a weary expression 
on his pale face, looked on in silence. 

“ Three hundred and seventy — eighty — ninety ! A 
tidy sum, my dear fellow,” he exclaimed. 

“ Isn’t it ? And when I began to bet I had only 
twenty marks. Pftii ! It’s a shabby business, this 
taking a friend’s money because chance favors you. I 
am ashamed of myself ! Doring was the most sensible 
of the lot of us ! He declared that he shared Menken’s 
opinion of gambling, and wouldn’t bet a sou. He is 
right, quite right ! Such pastime ruins one’s character — 
makes one ill-humored, avaricious and vile generally.” 

Eugene laughed. 

“ You exaggerate, my dear boy,” he responded, and 


60 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


his eyes hung with secret longing on the money. 
“ I don’t think it is the desire to win that prompts one 
to playgames of hazard. Merely amusement, Waldau — 
merely amusement. So long as a game is played 
merely for amusement there surely is no harm in it.” 

“ We need not argue the point, ” returned Elimar, 
stretching himself ; “ we should only continue to dis- 
agree. I will only say that I think Menken is right : 
That every one who plays — every one without excep- 
tion — becomes so infatuated with the demon of gold 
that he ends by playing solely to win. Now, my dear 
Blenkner, please take the money off my bed, and if 
you will kindly take yourself into the studio I ’ll get up 
and dress, and join you in a few minutes.” 

Blenkner swept the coin and notes into his hand and 
laid them on the table, and remarking : 

“ I’ll take a look at your latest creations,” went into 
the studio. 

Elimar rose. He was still weary, and the vigorous 
drenchings with cold water he gave his head, and after- 
ward with cologne, were not enough to refresh him. 
He was out of humor with himself — even more dis- 
satisfied than usual. The scenes of the past night now 
seemed to him a disgraceful orgy ; he cursed the 
childish weakness which made it impossible for him to 
keep the resolutions made a hundred times. He sur- 
veyed his reflection in the mirror. The face was pale ; 
deep shadows lay underneath the eyes. He looked ill, 
and felt weak, in mind as well as in body. 

He lifted a small, ornamental flagon from the toilet- 
table, removed the stopper, and inhaled the pungent 
fumes of the salts ; then he thrust his arms into the 
sleeves of an embroidered smoking- jacket and went 
into the studio. 

On a little table in the bow-window was the morning 


“ DIAVOLETTA.” 61 

tea Susanne had just brought in. Susanne was the 
feminine factotum of the young artist’s apartments, 
and watched over Elimar with a motherly care. She lec- 
tured him in unadulterated Berlin dialect when he was 
idle, and showered praises on him when he completed 
a picture. 

Susanne was arranging the plates and cups, and 
was engaged in a lively conversation with Herr Blenk- 
ner when Elimar entered. 

“Well, I must say this is interesting,” exclaimed 
Blenkner turning toward Elimar, “and Susanne tells 
me you have not yet heard the good news.” 

“ And how should my young gentleman have heard 
it ?” crisply demanded the dame. “ How should he hear 
anything when he deserts his studio at noon and doesn’t 
come back until next morning, and sleeps until eleven 
o’clock ? Just look at him, Herr Blenkner ! How pale 
he is, and an old body like me is not to get discouraged 
when — ” 

“ Come, come, Susanne,” half-jestingly, half-irritably 
interrupted Elimar, “ don’t begin to lecture. I am not 
in the humor to listen to a sermon on morals. What 
have you to tell me ? Have I had a call from a patron ?” 

“ And such a patron !” interposed Blenkner. “ Just 
look at this gilt-edged, perfumed visiting-card ! Can 
you guess what name it bears !” 

Elimar frowned. 

“ I think I can,” he returned curtly, Fraulein Bessner, 
the soubrette, has been teasing me for months to paint 
her portrait. I have no desire to transfer her grisette 
beauty to canvas.” 

“ You are mistaken, it is not Fraulein Bessner ; and 
as you never would guess the name of your early 
visitor I’ll tell you — Frau Von Hilgersdorf.” 

Elimar dropped his teaspoon ; his astonishment was 


62 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


visible on his face and in the hasty movement with 
which he turned toward Blenkner. 

“ Frau Von Hilgersdorf ?” he repeated, incredulously. 
“ Now, what can she want, I wonder ?” 

“ Still-Life Eugene ” looked with an arch smile at the 
speaker. 

“ You will find out very soon, my dear innocent, the 
fair widow left word that she would call again in an 
hour. You may therefore ” — glancing toward the clock 
— “ expect her any moment. There !” as a sharp peal 
from the door-bell interrupted him. “ There she is 
now. Shall I vanish ? There is no telling what the 
little beauty may have to say to you.” 

Elimar had risen from the table. 

“Just go into the bedroom,” he said, hastily, “and 
take those tea-things with you. I don’t want Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf to find me just breakfasting.” 

There was a knock at the studio door, which opened 
without further ceremony, and Baron Von Menken 
entered. 

“ Ah, Herr Von Menken !” exclaimed Eugene, coming 
back with the tea-service. “ Pray don’t fancy I have 
become Waldau’s tray-bearer. I am only acting a part 
in a comedy. We did not expect you, but a fair visitor, 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf.” 

The baron returned Blenkner ’s greeting with a cool 
nod, and held out his hand to Elimar. 

“ I am intruding, I fear,” he said, unbuttoning his 
cloak ; “ but I shall stop only a few moments, as I am 
due at a lunch at twelve. I should like a few words 
with you, Elimar.” 

This was plain enough for “ Still-Life Eugene,” who, 
as he passed into the adjoining room, cast a glance that 
was anything but amiable toward the baron. 

Herr Vou Menken drew n chair toward the table, 


“ DIAVOLETTA." 63 

seated himself and attentively examined his gloves for 
several seconds before speaking. 

“ I am not given to sermonizing, as you well know, 
Elimar,” he began at last, looking earnestly at his young 
friend, “ and I dislike very much to say anything to you 
that sounds like a lecture. I trust that you will believe 
that what I am going to say is prompted by sincere 
friendship and regard. You spent last .night in a very 
merry company, didn’t you ?” 

Waldau bowed. 

“Yes,” he replied, “ Pringsberg, Doring, myself and 
several others met at Julitz’s. Chance seems my bit- 
terest foe ; it always leads me into the wildest so- 
ciety.” 

“ Pray don’t think that I came here to reprove you,” 
in a kindly tone interposed the baron. “ I know what 
it is to be young and merry. Years alone can teach 
one that it is better for the mind and body to be mod- 
erate in all things. No, it is not of your merry-making 
I wish to speak. Be joyous, care-free, gay as you like — 
only — be more careful in your choice of society.” 

Elimar’s face darkened. 

“ It is said tha.tfc>u are my most intimate friend,” he 
retorted, sullenly. 

“Don’t be angry, Elimar,” quietly returned the baron. 
“ You must have seen ere this that your irony falls 
harmlessly on me. I am too earnestly your friend, 
and not only in the opinion of the world ! As your 
friend, I say again ; Be careful with whom you asso- 
ciate.” 

“ Pray speak plainly, Herr Von Menken !” testily 
exclaimed Waldau. “ I dislike insinuations. Of whom 
am I to be careful ? You allude to some particular 
person. Who is it ?” 

“ I did not mean to ‘insinuate,’ as you say, Elimar, 


64 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


for I don’t think I need fear even so famous a duelist 
as young- Hackert is said to be,” smilingly responded 
Menken. 

“ Oh, Hackert !” Elimar shrugged his shoulders. 
“ And you really believe I need to be warned against 
that senseless chatterer ? Heaven knows, Attokar, 
there is no need of such warning.” 

“ I am glad to hear that, my dear lad. I was afraid 
the student had shown you the amiable side of his 
character.” 

And so he has. He is amusing in spite in spite of 
his bluster and swagger. But I am no more intimate 
with him than I am with any other chance acquaint- 
ance whom I happen to meet at a drinking-bout. No, 
indeed, Hackert will never become a friend of mine. 
But why do you warn me against him specially ?” 

The baron hesitated a moment, then said : 

“ I have every reason to mistrust him. He is not 
only frivolous to a degree ; but he is also, I fear, an 
unscrupulous scoundrel.” 

Waldau became suddenly thoughtful. 

“ You may be right,” he responded after a pause. 
“ He wants to be very friendly and sociable with me, 
but I shall avoid him in every possible way.” 

“ And you will find later that you have done well,” 
supplemented the baron. “ Pardon my plain-speaking, 
Elimar, but I know your easy-going nature so well. 
You are too easily won by a jolly companion. This 
Blenkner,” lowering his tone and nodding toward the 
adjoining room, “ also is, to my mind, no fit companion 
for you.” 

Waldau smiled. 

“ ‘ Still-Life ’ Eugene ? My dear Attokar, I can assure 
you that the fellow’s society is utterly distasteful to me. 
He is a coward, deceitful, envious and malicious. It is 


“ DIAVOLETTA.” 65 

not an easy matter, however, to keep such reptiles at a 
distance. They are so obtrusive.” 

Menken rose. 

Then my little mission is accomplished happily, I 
trust,” he said, glancing toward the clock. “ Half- 
past eleven ? I must make haste ! Old Ichlieben does 
not like his Moscow patties cold. You are expecting a 
call from Frau Von Hilgersdorf. I believe the fair 
widow has an eye on you, my lad ! Not a bad match, 
either, by the way.” 

He had turned away as he added the concluding sen- 
tence, but not far enough to avoid seeing the deep flush 
which shot into his young friend’s face, which became 
crimson to the roots of his blonde hair. 

“ Pray, none of that sort of banter with me, I beg, 
my dear Menken. Frau Von Hilgersdorf is no more to 
me than a hundred other women, old and young, whom 
we meet in society. I haven’t the least interest in any 
of the sex but the one whom you know.” 

Menken turned abruptly, and let his eyes rest with a 
peculiar expression on Elimar’s face. 

“ It were better to suppress this passion in time, my 
lad,” he said quietly. “ You hope in vain.” 

“ In vain ?” echoed Elimar, his voice rising, much to 
the satisfaction of Herr Blenkner, who was listening 
attentively at the bedroom-door. “ Have you a reason 
for robbing me of the hope which is my moral sup- 
port, which keeps me from losing heart altogether ? 
You, with your heart of marble, have no sympathy, 
cannot understand the passionate yearning of a lover, 
cannot understand how a single thought can fill the 
soul ! I should be inexpressibly miserable did I not 
hope, did I not believe that my love would some time 
be returned. No, no. 1 cannot, wi7l not, believe your 
cruel words !” 


66 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


With a sudden movement the baron stepped to 
Elimar’s side and laid his hand on the young man’s 
shoulder : 

“ You are right, Waldau. I, with my prosaic nature, 
cannot understand a youthful passion. This is the last 
time I shall discuss this subject with you. Atif wieder- 
sehen !" 

Menken’s tone had become so gentle, so tender, that 
a sympathetic chord in Waldau ’s heart was deeply 
touched. Perhaps the baron was, after all, more tender- 
hearted than he appeared ! 

A7if wiedersehen, my dear friend,” returned the 
warm-hearted artist, cordially pressing the hand ex- 
tended toward him. 

He stood facing Menken, and noticed that the baron 
wore a new scarf-pin. It was a curious little ornament 
— a tiny gold figure, holding in its uplifted hands a 
shield, that bore on its face a serpent in relief. The 
eyes of the serpent, which held its tail in its mouth — ■ 
the symbol of infinity — as well as the nail heads around 
the edge of the shield, were diamonds. 

Menken saw that Elimar’s eyes rested on the orna- 
ment, and for a moment it seemed almost as if he be- 
came confused. 

“ Do you like the pin ?” he asked, with affected care- 
lessness. “ It is pretty, isn’t it ? It was my father’s. I 
seldom wear it, because I don’t care for brilliants, but I 
lost or mislaid my favorite pearl the other day, so put 
this on instead.” 

He pressed Elimar’s hand once more and moved 
toward the door, which opened at that moment to admit 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf. She blushed deeply in return- 
ing the baron’s respectful salutation, evidently embar- 
rassed at meeting him in Waldau’s studio. 

Elimar received his fair visitor with extreme cour- 


DIAVOLETTA. 


67 


<< 


tesy, Frau Von Hilgersdorf extended her hand in 
greeting to the artist, then seated herself in the chair 
he drew forward for her. 

“ I know you are surprised to receive a visit from me, 
Herr Waldau,” she began, letting her beautiful eyes 
wander unrestrainedly about the room. “ I shall there- 
fore tell you, without further ceremony, what brings me 
here. I want you to paint my portrait.” 

“ You are very flattering, gracious lady,” responded 
Elimar, bowing courteously. “ 1 trust I may be able to 
perform the work in a manner that will be satisfactory 
to you.” 

“ Were I not already convinced of that, I should go 
to Gussow or Richter ; but I prefer your work to theirs. 
A short time ago I saw at Myers’s a picture of yours — 
the portrait of the ballerina della Occa, represented as 
a will-o’-the-wisp, and was told it was your own idea. 
It is excellent ! The colorless face and flaming eyes of 
the Italian dancer are peculiarly adapted to represent 
the mysterious sprite said to frequent graveyards. I 
was so charmed with the picture that I determined to 
be painted in character — something different from the 
conventional portrait. I dare say you have heard 
me called ‘ eccentric ’ — N' import e ! Well, I want to be 
represented by a character in keeping with my reputa- 
tion.” 

“ I am curious, dear madam, to hear in what char- 
acter you wish to be portrayed ?” said Elimar. 

“ Professor Mehrou said in jest lately that I possessed 
a dual nature — half angel, half demon. / think I am 
more demon than angel. Now, what say you to the 
character of ‘ Diavoletta ?’ ” 

Elimar could not suppress the smile which rose to his 
lips as the beautiful woman rested her expressive eyes 
on him. The saucy little head, the cherry lips, the 


68 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


black brows almost meeting above the slightly tumed- 
up nose, really seemed more like the seductive mask of 
a siren than the countenance of a cherub. There was 
a trace of unrestrained passion in the piquant features, 
forehead, eyes, delicate nostrils, voluptuous mouth, and 
rosy chin. 

“I can only assent with reluctance to such a com- 
mand, gracious lady,” he returned, bowing, “ because I 
believe the art of portraiture to be profound when it is 
used to reproduce impossibilities. However — ” 

“You consent to paint the picture,” laughingly in- 
terposed the lady. “You need not take the trouble to 
flatter me Herr Waldau, such coin does not pass with 
me ! To be serious, I have taken into my head to see 
myself on canvas as ‘Diavoletta,’ when can the sittings 
begin ?” 

“ Whenever madam desires.” 

“To-morrow then. Will it suit you just as well to 
come to my house ? I think I prefer that to coming 
here.” 

“ As you wish, gracious lady. I shall send an easel 
and whatever else is required to your residence.” 

“ And now about the costume ?” resumed Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf with increasing animation, “ My dress- 
maker is always ready. She can produce in a few 
hours the most elaborate ball-gown. What would you 
suggest as appropriate ?” 

Waldau deliberated several minutes. 

“ It is no easy matter to decide just what would suit 
your fancy,” he returned. “ I think, however, that a 
sort of crown of blood-red cock’s feathers, rising from 
a circlet of gold heads, would suit your hair as well as 
the character you wish to represent. Two tiny golden 
horns, very small, you know, merely to indicate the 
character, above the temples, a chain of antique coins 


“ DIAVOLETTA.” ■ 69 

with cabalistic characters around the neck, as worn by 
the women of the Orient ; a red mantle with gold em- 
broidery, hung from the shoulders, and a short red 
skirt with similar decorations. That, I fancy, would be 
a suitable costume for a ‘ Diavoletta ’ — a ‘ Diavoletta ’ 
to be sure who would simply be a contrast to the ‘ An- 
gelina ’ posing for her !” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf lifted her finger. 

“ There ! You are flattering again,” she exclaimed, 
reprovingly. “ I must congratulate you on your skill 
as a designer of costumes ! You must have had in 
your brief career a good deal to do with feminine de- 
mons ? May I expect you to-morrow ?” she concluded, 
rising. 

“ At the hour which best suits your convenience, 
gracious lady.” 

“ Thanks ! Then at twelve I shall await you in my 
scarlet mantle and diadem of feathers !” 

Elimar gallantly pressed his lips to the little hand 
held out to him, and his fair patron rustled from the 
studio. 

The door had hardly closed behind her, when Herr 
Blenkner came from the bedroom. His face was flushed. 
He carried in one hand a bottle, in the other a glass of 
wine. 

“ You miserly creature !” he exclaimed, waving the 
half-empty bottle toward Elimar. “ How can you hide 
this Spanish nectar in the darkest corner of you den 
and not share it with your visitors ? To punish you 
for your niggardliness 1 released the spirits of the 
bottle. It was too close for them in this narrow prison. 
Well,” surveying Elimar with a leering smile, “is the 
audience ended ? Has the lovely widow been dis- 
missed ?” 

Elimar turned with a gesture of disgust from him. 


70 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Stop your nonsense, Blenkner !” he returned, im- 
patiently. “ Frau Von Hilgersdorf wants to be painted 
in the character of ‘ Diavoletta.’ That was her errand.” 

Eugene laughed boisterously. 

“ As ‘ Diavoletta?’ That is capital ! Excellent ! In 
every woman there lurks a devil ; but the fair Hilgers- 
dorf can claim two of them ! Come, Waldau, let us 
drink to the fair ‘ Diavoletta !' ” 





CHAPTER VIL 

SIGNOR CADAMA. 

A slender man of not unattractive appearance as- 
cended the broad stone steps of a large apartment- 
house in that quarter of the Residenz which is occu- 
pied by the students who wish to be near their alma 
mater. It would have been difficult to decide the age 
of this man, who might have been called handsome 
had his face been more rounded, and had it not been 
disfigured by a nervous play of the muscles. The steel- 
gray eyes underneath their shaggy brows had in them 
an almost repulsive expression ; while the profile of 
his face showed a projecting if intellectual forehead, a 
large nose that stood boldly out from the lean cheeks 
and the sharp and bloodless lips that gave to the whole 
countenance a vampire-like character. 

The coal-black beard which fell from his chin, half 
way down his breast, was so trimmed and shaven as to 
leave his face clean to the projecting cheek-bones. The 
carefully arranged hair, crowned by a shiny “ chimney- 
pot ” hat, was combed over the ears in front. The 
clothes of this very singular-looking personage were of 
the latest cut and finest materials ; but from the 
boots on his slim feet to the closely buttoned collar of 
his paletot everything was coal-black. 

[71 ] 


n 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


He ascended the staircase with a deliberate tread, 
pausing on the landings to read the names on the 
cards tacked underneath the bell-cord. At last, on the 
third floor, he seemed to have found what he was 
hunting. He read over the second time the name, 
‘‘ Herbert von Hackert-Selchern-,” before knocking at 
the door on which was tacked the student’s visiting 
card. 

“ Walk right in !” called a drawling voice inside. 

The reception which greeted the visitor, when he 
opened the door, was not a very friendly one. A 
gigantic Ulmer mastiff rose from the floor and began to 
growl threateningly. 

“ Down, Montazza — down, you brute ! Under the 
sofa. Do you hear ?” 

The student, at the visitor’s entrance, had half risen 
from his recumbent position on the black-leather sofa ; 
but he laid aside neither the cigar, the smoke from 
which filled the room, nor the novel which he had evi- 
dently just begun to read, as he stared inquiringly at 
the intruder, and demanded, in a tone that was any- 
thing but amiable ; 

“ Who are you, and what do you want ?” 

“ I am called Giulio Cadama, and I want money,” 
calmly and with a foreign accent replied the stranger. 

Suprised and interested, the student now sat upright 
and scrutinized his singular visitor, who returned the 
glance composedly. He did not move from the spot 
but remained standing just inside the door. 

“ I am not acquainted with any Herr Caldauma, or 
whatever you call yourself,” said Hackert, irritated by 
the stranger’s self-possession. “ Nor can I remember 
owing a Herr Caldauma anything.” 

“ I dare say not,” calmly responded the stranger. “ I 
don’t think it likely that I would ever have loaned you 


SIGNOR CADAMA. 


73 


a soldo ; but chance happened to throw into my posses- 
sion several due bills bearing your signature, and you 
will hardly deny that the time for their payment is long 
past, and that I have a right to want the money.” 

The student laughed heartily, 

“ No, of course I don’t deny anything you have said, 
my good Herr Caldauma !”he exclaimed, again stretch- 
ing himself on at full length on the sofa. “ I am only 
sorry that you took the trouble to come up here, as I 
am not in condition to satisfy your wants. I ’ll tell you 
what you can do for me, though,” he added, after blow- 
ing a cloud of smoke from his lips. “ You can add a 
few hundred marks to the sum I already owe you, and 
that will round out the figures handsomely.” 

Herr Giulio Cadama nodded. A peculiar smile lurked 
about his thin lips as he replied : 

“ I really cannot see why I should not make such a 
loan—” 

Hackert did not wait for the conclusion of the sen- 
tence. He sprang from the sofa and drew a chair to 
the table. 

“ Sit down, rny dear Herr Caldauma — pray take a 
chair and make yourself comfortable. Here, let me 
take your hat. May I offeryou a cigar ? Not ? Sorry 
you don’t smoke. I’ve got some prime weeds here, 
genuine Havanas, mild, delicious ! And so you are 
able and willing to help me with a loan of a few thou- 
sand marks ? That is awfully kind of you ! You are 
quite safe in lending the money, for I expect very soon 
to be able to repay you, with whatever interest you 
may desire. How much can you let me have ? I’m in 
a devil of a tight place just at present, and the more you 
can spare the better, my good Caldauma.” 

The stranger made no reply to this long speech, but 
drew from his breast-pocket a large, well-filled letter- 


74 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


case, took from it a visiting-card, which he handed to 
to the student. 

Hackertread aloud with increasing surprise : 


Giulio Cadavia, 


Avvocato. 


103 Tieolo San Lorenzo. 

ROMA. 


“ My name, as you see, baron,” observed the Italian, 
“ is Cadama, and not Caldauma as you persist in call- 
ing me. My card will also tell you, if you have not 
already detected it in my speech, that I am no country- 
man of yours, but a native of the land where, according 
to one of your poets, the golden orange gleams brightly 
amid the dark foliage, and where, according to my knowl- 
edge, all manner of noxious weeds flourish luxuriantly. 
A I Terzio, baron, I have learned, for your sake alone, to 
speak your language, a task by no means easy for a 
Roman tongue, and I have journeyed to Berlin solely 
for the purpose of supplying you with money.” 

The cigar almost dropped from Hackert’s lips. He 
flung the novel into a corner of the room, kicked the 
dog for fetching it back to him, then, resting his hands 
on the table, stared with questioning eyes at his visitor. 

Signor tapped his handkerchief against his high 
forehead, then continued, in a lower tone : 

“ I have a business in view, baron, a business that 
will pay us both handsomely. In order to introduce 
myself to you, I was forced to adopt strategic meas- 
ures. I have long known that a number of your due- 
bills were in circulation and it was not at all difficult to 
secure some of them. You cannot pay me ; that does 


SIGNOR CADAMA. 


75 


not matter ! I shall with pleasure advance further 
sums ; quite enough in fact, to, as the saying goes, set 
you on your legs again.” 

At this juncture the student brought his hand with 
such force upon the table that the inkstand, with its 
dried contents, rolled to the floor. 

“ Are you really in earnest ? You come to me like a 
rescuing angel. Signor Cadama ! I am, of course, en- 
tirely in the dark as to your reason for helping me, but 
that you mean to be generous I am convinced. Go 
ahead, therefore, and let me hear what you have to say. 
Fire away, my dear fellow !” 

“ Slowly — slowly, baron. There ’s luck in leisure you 
know, and there is no need for haste in this business. 
First — ” he looked cautiously around the room before 
asking ; “ Is there any possibility of our being over- 

heard ?” 

“ Not the slightest ! But speak in a low tone if what 
you have to say is a secret.” 

“ It is, and the result might be fatal for us were any 
one to hear. That you will keep the secret I know, 
for it will be to your interest to do so.” 

The student drew a chair close to the Italian’s side 
and seated himself. 

“You excite my curiosity to a wonderful degree, 
signor.” 

“ It shall soon be satisfied,” smilingly returned the 
Italian, stroking his pointed beard. “ Allow me first 
to ask a few more questions. You are, according to 
the Almanack, the sole representative of the Hackert- 
Selchern family ?” 

“ Certainly ; with the exception of my cousin, the 
daughter of my uncle. Colonel Von Hackert, who died 
not long ago. I am the only one living bearing the 
name.” 


76 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Va bene ! Have you any idea how much your uncle, 
the colonel, was worth ?” 

“ I can’t give you the exact figure. I think, however, 
that it is not far from three hundred thousand dollars.” 

“ And /,” supplemented the avvocato with a peculiar 
twitching of his eyelids, know the sum to be three 
times the amount you mention !” 

“ Thunder and lightning !” Again the student’s fist 
descended upon the table with a force that made the 
worm-eaten boards quiver. “ If that is true, then my 
uncle behaved most outrageously toward me ! Do 
you know how much he gave me — me, his only male 
relation ? Sixty thousand marks — I swear it ! Signor 
Cadama, a beggarly sixty thousand marks that will not 
come into my possession either until I submit my neck 
to the matrimonial yoke.” 

“ Then you would better marry at once,” with a touch 
of irony suggested the advocate. 

“ That is said easily enough, my dear signor ; but 
who, in the devil’s name, would undertake to share my 
beggar’s lot ? I can’t insult my good old name by 
leading to the altar the first marriageable female I 
meet ! Heaven knows I cast from me, long ago, many of 
the prejudices of rank ; but to marry a girl of obscure 
origin in order to secure an unimportant legacy, I can’t 
do it — no, sir ! The name which was distinguished prior 
to Acron and Nicopolis is still a trifle too dear to me.” 

A slight wrinkle appeared for a moment between 
the advocate’s brows. Evidently it did not suit his 
plans to find in this vagabond student a remnant of 
family pride. He adjusted his cravat, then drew his 
lips into the stereotyped smile usual to them, and said : 

“ It would be a pity, too, if a young gentleman like 
yourself were not allowed to follow his inclinations. 
But I should think it would be easy enough for you to 


SIGNOR CADAMA. 


77 


find a wife who is your social equal. How, for instance, 
would your cousin suit ? You would be a very rich 
man then.” 

“ If you have no other business with me, signor, than 
to offer inane suggestions, you may spare yourself fur- 
ther trouble,” rudely returned the student. “ Do you 
imagine that I am eager to be shown the door by my 
haughty kinswoman, and the feminine Cerburus who 
guards her ? I guess not ! Moreover, my worthy 
man of law, I want you to know that my cousin Lucia 
could transform for me the musical sound of a half- 
million gold coins into a very discordant noise ! Lucia 
is my nearest relative, but I haven’t the least atom of 
affection for her. I may be wrong in saying it, but it ’s 
the truth, and that ’s all there is about it !” 

Again the advocate passed his long white hand over 
his beard : 

“ Then I may, without further hesitation, tell you the 
object of my visit,” he said slowly, the syllables seem- 
ing to slide from his thin lips. “ Don’t be shocked at 
the disclosures I am compelled to make. Startling as 
they may seem, they are true. Your dislike of Miss 
Lucia is perfectly natural, for the girl is your bitterest 
enemy. Not one drop of Hackert blood flows in her 
veins ! She is not the daughter of your deceased 
iincle, whose legal heir is — yourself !” 

Several moments passed before the student recovered 
from the effects of this astounding revelation. He 
seemed stunned — like a thunderbolt the advocate’s 
words had fallen on him. He had been prepared for 
anything — everything else but this most incredible 
intelligence. It rarely happened that he lost his self- 
possession ; but it was only after a severe struggle that 
he succeeded in composing himself sufficiently to say 
in a voice whose vibrations were clearly perceptible : 


78 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ I can’t boast a knowledge of human nature ; but I 
don’t think you are the sort of man to deceive one un- 
less there was something to be gained by it ; and what 
could you gain from me? The most crafty usurer 
could win nothing from me ! You must have learned, 
while acquiring all the particulars relating to our family 
affairs, that my debts far exceed my income. I have, 
therefore, no reason to mistrust you. I believe your 
object in coming to me is honest enough. What I 
don’t believe is the silly tale you have told me. Some- 
body has been imposing on you.” 

“ Do you imagine, baron,” returned the Roman, fixing 
his keen eyes on the student’s face, “ that a mere conjec- 
ture would have sufficient force to draw me to Berlin ? 
If you care to learn anything concerning my character, 
just take the trouble to wire to any of the information 
bureaus in Rome or direct to the Tribimale reale if you 
like. You will likely be told that I am the most un- 
scrupulous, and at the same time most sagacious and 
best informed advocate in the Tiber city. I am thus 
candid because I want you to understand that I never 
undertake to follow a clue unless the end is clearly in 
sight ! I should not have hunted you up had not I 
possessed proofs — yes, proofs, baron ! — that you are the 
only living person having the right to the name of 
Hackert-Selchern, and that the girl you call your 
cousin is nothing more or less than a — nameless 
beggar !” 

There was something so convincing in the advocate’s 
tone and manner that, extraordinary as were his words, 
the student doubted them no longer. He looked closely 
at the Italian. The lean, bird-like head with its keen 
eyes indicated shrewdness and profound thought. In 
truth, a man like Cadama would not build on a sand 
dune, his foundation would be sure to be laid on the 


SIGNOR CADAMA. 


79 


rock of certainty ! The advocate might be an un- 
scrupulous knave — he himself admitted as much — but 
he certainly was not a fool. 

Hackert’s manner had undergone a complete change ; 
his levity had vanished, and an expression of deliber- 
ate cunning and malice had settled on his dissipated 
face. He folded his arms over his broad chest, and 
leaning indolently back in his chair said : 

“You can imagine, signor, how seriously I am af- 
fected by your disclosures. It is of course but natural 
that I should wish to get possession of what is legally 
mine. I trust, therefore, that you will confide in me 
everything you know concerning this very singular 
affair ?” 

Cadama nodded. 

“ Certainly, I shall tell you, but before I begin, I 
must remind you that in order to gain our object, we 
must go to work with great caution — in secret, like the 
mole under the earth ! ‘ Four eyes see more than two,’ 

is a Piedmontese saying, and we two will be able to ac- 
complish more than one. But we must never for a 
moment lose sight of the fact that the utmost secrecy 
is to be preserved — it is the unconditional factor for the 
success of our undertaking. Another matter, baron. 
You have heard the maxim, ‘ No pay no profit.’ Before 
I unravel the mystery, I must ask you to sign a docu- 
ment. It contains, as you will see, nothing more than 
a promise to pay me — in case you come into possession 
of your uncle’s entire fortune — the sum of fifty thou- 
sand dollars. I have a second contract, between your- 
self and a certain Francisco Boccani, who is closely 
connected with this matter. The latter paper, however, 
I will lay before you when you have heard all that I 
have to say. Will you have the kindness to sign here ?” 

He unfolded the paper he took from his letter-case. 


80 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


and spread it on the table in front of the student. Then, 
having noted that the appliances for the proper signing 
of a legal document "were not to be had in this singular 
dwelling — the ink had long vanished from the inkstand 
which lay on the floor, and the only pen was thickly 
coated with rust — he took from the inexhaustible letter- 
case a tiny bottle of ink, and unscrewed from his watch- 
chain a peculiar charm that was quickly transformed 
into a pen. These he handed to the student, who, after 
a careful perusal of the document, proceeded to attach 
his signature. His usual careless manner had vanished. 
He was almost painfully particular in writing the name 
he had so often scribbled illegibly on his due-bill. 

Signor Cadama waited until the ink was dry. Then 
he folded the paper and laid it in the mysterious letter- 
case, which he returned to his pocket, saying : 

“ And now, baron, we will have the story.” 




CHAPTER VIII. 

FEAR AND SUSPENSE. 

“ Is this final, counselor ?” 

“ It is. I have nothing more to say, lieutenant.” 

Counselor Dreyfuss regretted the hasty reply the 
moment it had fallen from his lips. He had seen the 
look of pain which came into the young officer’s blue 
eyes, and was sorry for him. He stepped close to his 
side and laid his broad hand in a fatherly manner on 
the lieutenant’s shoulder. In a way he was fond of the 
young fellow, and wished him well. But as a husband 
for his niece and heiress — that was another thing 1 A 
mere lieutenant was not nearly “ high ” enough. 

“ I must explain, my dear Doring,” he said in an 
apologetic tone. “ I dare say I was a trifle hasty. I 
honor and admire you. I am convinced that you are 
a thoroughly honorable man and capable of making 
any woman happy. If I refuse to give you my Annie, 
it is because I have a special reason for so doing. Annie 
is as dear to us as if she were really our daughter, and 
it would be like tearing away part of ourselves to give 
her up. Besides, the child is still very young. She is 
not old enough to take upon herself the cares of mar- 
ried life. She can stay with us for several years longer 

[8l] 


82 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


without fearing she may die an old maid ! Allow me 
to make a proposition, my dear Doring. Come to me a 
year from now, and if I am still of the same opinion, 
then come again in another year. True love is lasting, 
and — Why, bless my soul, lad, you are far enough 
from being an old man, and still have before you the 
happiest days of your life !” 

The lieutenant felt the blood surge through his veins. 

A hot wave rushed to his brain ; he struggled manfully 
with his agitation. 

He had not expected to win without a fierce struggle 
the girl he loved with all the strength of his honest 
heart. He had told himself that it would take a deal 
of argument to convince the counselor of his honest 
intentions. He knew, from Annie herself, that her 
uncle looked with suspicion on every suitor for the 
hand of his heiress. He firmly believed that every one 
speculated on the young girl’s future inheritance. But ' 
Doring had believed that he would in the end suc- 
ceed in convincing the counselor that his desire to make 
Annie his wife was not prompted by mercenary views, 
and his belief had been strengthened by the knowledge 
that Annie returned his love and had confessed it to 
her uncle. And now every one of his hopes was 
rudely dispelled by the couselor’s words and manner, 
in which he saw plainly enough that further pleading 
would be useless. Evidently it was true that the am- 
bitious old gentleman desired for his niece a husband 
with “ blue blood.” 

“ If you knew how cruelly you wound me by your 
words, counselor,” after a pause said the young officer, 

“ you would speak differently. I know very well what 
the proposition you offer means. I should ask as vainly 
the second and the third time as I do now. I am 
not the sort of husband you would select for your niece, 


FEAR AND SUSPENSE. 


83 


becan:se I am simply a penniless soldier. That I love 
Annie with all my heart counts as nothing in the eyes 
of the millionaire who expects to buy with his gold a 
coronet ; or, perhaps, even the noble escutcheon of a 
count ! I have nothing, counselor, but a .sound head 
and two vigorous arms that can earn enough to sup- 
port a wife ; but, poor as I am, I despise your money, 
and want none of it. I ask only for Annie, who loves 
me as I love her.” 

Herr Dreyfuss leaned against the table beside which 
he was standing, and toyed nervously with the orna- 
ments on his fob-chain. The lieutenant’s independent 
words and manner angered him. Was this a proper 
tone to use toward him ? Offended vanity triumphed. 
The counselor elevated his brows, and twirling the 
fob-chain swiftly around his forefinger, said, with a 
sneer : 

“ I must confess. Lieutenant Boring, that I am 
astonished at the very remarkable meaning you give to 
my words — very much astonished indeed ! You seem 
to forget that I occupy the place of Annie’s father ; that 
I have a right to watch over her welfare and to advise 
when it concerns the most important step of her life. 
If I refuse to give you Annie it is because I have a good 
reason — ” 

“Then, pray, at least let me hear it,” interrupted 
Boring, in desperation. “ Annie is twenty-one, conse- 
quently of age, and her own mistress. You surely can- 
not forbid her to marry simply because you want to 
keep her with you a few years longer ! I beg your 
pardon, counselor, if I speak excitedly, but I can- 
not rest content with your answer. I must know why 
you refuse to give me Annie’s hand.” 

“ Because I think it is for the best, my young gentle- 
man !” angrily responded the counselor, his broad face 


84 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


aflame. “ Am I bound to account to you for my ac- 
tions? You ask me a question that can be answered 
by ‘ yes ’ or ‘ no,’ and I say: ‘ No ’ — and mean it !” 

For a full minute Doring remained silent. His. head 
was bent on his heaving chest, where shone the medals 
won in the campaigns of 1866-70, beside the iron cross 
for bravery. 

At last he raised his head. His face had grown pale 
as marble ; he breathed heavily. 

“I have nothing further to say, counselor,” he 
returned, forcing himself to speak calmly. “ I hope 
that Heaven may not punish too severly your obdurate 
pride. Such pride must suffer sooner or later.” 

He did not wait to hear the counselor’s irate re- 
joinder, but bowed mutely, and hastily quitted the 
room. 

“ Incredible ! Incredible !” muttered Herr Dreyfuss, 
excitedly pacing the floor. “ This beggarly lieuten- 
ant acts' as if I ought to consider his desire to marrv 
my Annie an honor ! Humph ! I haven’t managed to 
rise to my position for nothing ! I haven’t heaped up 
dollars for nothing ! We shall find a husband for our 
girl, and we don’t want epaulettes, either !” he paused 
an instant, and deliberated, then continued : “ He 

isn’t a bad sort, this Doring, quite the contrary ! I al- 
ways liked him ; if I hadn’t, I should have told him long 
ago to shut my door on his back with himself outside ! 
But if he imagines that he has only to stretch out his 
hand to take my Annie — Donnerwettcr ! Why he ’s 
mistaken, that ’s all ! If he were a major, or even a 
captain, I might shut my eyes to the rest, but a mere 
lieutenant. No, sir ! Annie can get a dozen such ! I 
fancy I may with justice claim some reward for the 
long years of toil and economy, economy which en- 
abled me to lay by enough to buy a count’s escutcheon, 


FEAR AND SUSPENSE. 


85 


or a baron’s coronet, as this ruffianly lieutenant had the 
impertinence to say to me. I haven’t any such views, 
my young- gentleman, but — ” 

He paused again, and sank anew into deep medita- 
tion. He laid his hand, on which glittered and scintil- 
lated a valuable diamond, against his double chin, and 
fixed his eyes thoughtfully on the carpet. 

“ Menken is a distinguished man,” he muttered after 
awhile, continuing his monologue. “ He belongs to the 
nobility ; has held high office at court ; has the right to 
wear a captain’s uniform. He’s a handsome fellow, too, 
and a favorite in the highest circles, H-m ! — h-m ! — I, 
too, might then get an invitation occasionally to court, 
and why not ? Menken might even manage to get me 
a title.” 

So intent upon his ambitious soaring was the coun- 
selor, that he did not hear the door open, or see his 
niece until she was close by his side. 

He started and looked with some confusion down 
into the girl’s flushed, and tear-stained face. 

“ Why, Annie, my dear child ! What is the matter ? 
You look — you have been crying !” 

“ I met Hans in the hall after he left vou,” returned 
Annie, hanging her head. 

“ Hans ?” repeated the counselor, who knew very 
well whom his niece meant, but he was in no ^mood to 
tolerate such intimacy. “ And who pray is Hans ?” 

“ You know very well, uncle — Lieutenant Doring.” 

“ Oh ! And may I inquire who gives you the right 
to call this gentleman, who insults your uncle to his 
very face, by his first name ?” 

The flush on Annie’s face deepened. 

“ My love for him gives me the right, uncle,” she re- 
turned in a firm tone, fearlessly meeting the old gentle- 
man’s glance. “ 1 love Hans, and shall always love 


86 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


him, even at the risk of appearing ungrateful in your 
eyes.” 

“ Incredible, by heaven ! Incredible !” bellowed the 
counselor. “ Do you imagine, you silly child, that you 
can bully me into submission by such a declaration ? 
I, too, was young once, and can understand how easily 
a warm heart yields to a folly. I knew very well what 
I was doing when I told this impertinent lieutenant he 
was not the proper match for you. Thank heaven, you 
have some one to advise and counsel you when the 
most important question of your life needs an answer !” 

“ I know, dear uncle, that I owe you very much,” in 
a low tone returned Annie, repressing the tears which 
rose anew to her eyes. “You took me, a fatherless, 
motherless child, into your home and heart, and brought 
me up as your own daughter. That I love you as 
dearly as I could an own father is the least I can do 
to show my gratitude. But, uncle, there is a limit to 
all things. My sorrowful childhood taught me to de- 
pend on myself, to decide for myself ; and cheerfully 
as I would yield to you in everything else, willingly as 
I would follow your advice in all other matters, in this 
I must choose for myself.” 

“Which means, to express it in less poetical language,” 
sneered the counselor, “ that you intend to marry Lieu- 
tenant rjoring ?” 

“ Yes, uncle ; because I love him, and am convinced 
that I shall be happy with him.” 

Herr Dreyfuss laughed — a laugh that had nothing 
in it of the usual joyous sound. It was harsh and 
scornful. 

“ Listen to me, Annie,” he said. “ It is the last time 
I shall mention this subject to you. I want you, there- 
fore, to receive my words as seriously as I speak them. 
Love is an illusion — a deceptive image without solid 


FEAR AND SUSPENSE. 


87 


foundation. We live in an age in which the poetical 
citation ; ‘ There ’s room in the smallest cot,’ and so 
forth, has lost its meaning. Your own personal for- 
tune is small. Doring has nothing but his pay. You 
have always been told that you will some day inherit 
everything I own — everything I have struggled for 
years to accumulate. But — now listen, Annie — I have 
not the least desire or intention to support with my 
hard-earned savings any one who enters my family 
against my wishes. Therefore, I declare that, in case 
you persist in marrying this beggarly lieutenant, you 
shall not receive one penny — not one !” 

The counselor had intended by this curious declara- 
tion to frighten his niece. That his words failed in 
their effect he very soon perceived. A brave smile 
played around Annie’s lips, and an enthusiastic light 
beamed in her eyes as she replied : 

“ You are mistaken, uncle, if you imagine we counted 
on receiving any money from you. On the contrary, 
we have made all our plans to get on without it — ” 

“ Indeed ?” interrupted the counselor, becoming more 
and more excited. “ You seem to have carried this 
matter pretty far, my dear. Perhaps you can tell me 
also how the lieutenant proposes to support you — 
as a conductor on the tram-cars, or, perhaps, as a 
clerk ?” 

Without another word Annie turned and walked 
proudly from the room, leaving her enraged guardian 
to resume his furious promenade alone. 

She went to her own room and seated herself at the 
writing-table, a determined look on her rather plain 
face. For several minutes her pen passed swiftly over 
the sheet of note-paper. Then, when she had finished, 
she read what she had written. 

There were only a few lines, as follows : 


88 


INVISIBLE HANDS, 


“Dear Hans: You are right — uncle is inexorable, and 
further pleading would be useless. We must, therefore, act for 
ourselves. You know, my beloved, that I am ready to do what- 
ever you decide, that I will go wheresoever you wish to take me. 
Your future is mine. You told me once I was a shrewd, inde- 
pendent and energetic girl. If I have not yet been so, I shall 
strive to become so, in order to bear courageously any trials we 
may meet. Pray decide for me. 

“ Your loving and faithful Annie,” 

Annie sealed the letter, and herself posted it at the 
nearest street corner. Shortly after she had returned 
to the house, her uncle sallied forth and took his way 
to the residence of Baron Von Menken. 




CHAPTER IX. 

REMINISCENCES. 

A bright fire crackled on the hearth in Baron Von 
Menken’s private sitting-room, in which reigned an un- 
usual disorder. The impression one would have re- 
ceived on entering the room was that the baron, who 
was sitting in front of the fire, was about to start on a 
long journey, for three large travelling trunks stood in 
the middle of the floor. But the baron was not think- 
ing of wandering — at least not in person. He had sud- 
denly conceived the desire to look over his old papers, 
letters, diaries and other documents belonging to the 
past, and had ordered his valet to fetch the trunks from 
the attic. 

“ No, the baron was not going on a journey ; only 
his thoughts would wander over various parts of the 
globe, would revisit the scenes of the past. 

It had always been a hobby of the baron’s to preserve 
everything that was of the least interest ; consequently, 
the mass of accumulated matter of all sorts, sizes, 
shapes and character, formed no inconsiderable bulk. 

[89] 


90 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


The black -leather trunk, with brass nails, contained 
souvenirs of the baron’s youth. Here slumbered in- 
numerable packets of perfumed billets d'ainour, tied 
with blue ribbon ; rolls of passionate sonnets ; frag- 
ments of ball-gowns ; broken fans ; faded flowers and 
crushed cotillion-favors. 

Equally important were the contents of the second 
box. Of more value than either of the others, how- 
ever, were the contents of the third and most worm- 
eaten trunk — the one with a seal-skin cover. Within 
its bristly covering was coffined a world of romance, 
slumbered a flood of recollections, were imprisoned a 
multitude of demons, goblins and elves. 

This trunk was the first Menken opened. From the 
chaos of papers which fell toward him amid a stifling 
cloud of dust, was a pamphlet of the thickness of a 
finger. On the cover was written : “ War Diary, 
1866.” 

Menken had not taken active part in this campaign, 
but had accompanied it, entrusted with a secret politi- 
cal mission. Thus it happened that the diary contained 
mention not only of military facts, but recorded various 
diplomatic occurrences which had been enacted, during 
the fateful “ seven days,” behind the scenes of the 
theatre of war. 

■ These entries, however, were not what attracted 
Menken’s attention. He had long ago wearied of the 
political intrigues of the nation, as well as of the minia- 
ture battles at the various courts ; and such reading 
possessed no more interest for him. Therefore, he cast 
merely a passing glance at the records of political 
happenings and read only those of a purely personal 
character. 

“Between Podol and Schweinschadel, June 26-29,” 
he read, leaning far back in his chair, and with the 


REMINISCENCES. 


91 


diary shielding his face from the blaze on the hearth. 
“ This incessant firing between the two armies is be- 
coming very tiresome, and I shall be heartily glad 
when our brave prince wins the victory. 1 long for the 
flesh-pots of Egypt, for the comforts of my home ! I 
feel that I have grown too effeminate fora soldier’s life. 
A bundle of straw for a bed may suit a rough warrior 
like Hilgersdorf ; I prefer my feather-bed to such a bar- 
barous couch ! And the dinners ! Talbout, my wise 
old Talbout, thou most excellent of chefs, how I miss 
thee ! Thy tender gastronomic soul would recoil with 
horror were thine eye but to catch a single glimpse of 
the monstrosities our mess-room cook serves up as 
cotelcttes de moiiton, did thy nose sniff but once the 
diabolic aroma which arises from his fines herbes sauce ! 
Hilgersdorf avers that he never eat better chops than 
those served by Knusperbein. Ye gods, what a name 
for a chef de cuisine ! But then, the lank major’s tastes 
for the delicacies of the kitchen are not so fine as those 
for feminine beauty — as the occurrence of yesterday 
goes to prove. That affair is worthy a record in these 
pages. 

“ We — that is the general, with his two adjutants ; 
the colonel, who has the face of a Miltiades ; Major 
Hilgersdorf and his obese partner and several other of 
the staff officers, to whom I may with becoming modesty 
attach myself as ‘ diplomatic-fowl ’ — were sitting in the 
mess-tent after dinner. 

“ The Rothspon, which Miltiades had unearthed from 
some cellar in the neighborhood, was not bad, and the 
asthmatic captain’s cigars were tolerable. We were 
preparing to enjoy pleasant hours when a noise was 
heard outside, and directly afterward an excitable 
young ordnance officer rushed into the tent and an- 
nounced that he had captured a female spy. 


92 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ A female spy ? Sapperment, that was an event 
which did not happen every day ! The general hastily 
donned his helmet ; the colonel, major and captain did 
the same ; only I hesitated to crown myself with the 
rather shabby campaign-cap which was my property. 
Instead, I sought to give my countenance the serious 
expression warranted by the occasion. 

“ Thus we received the supposed spy, who was con- 
ducted into the tent much as a circus horse is led into the 
ring. I believed another mistake had been made, as 
several suspected persons who had been brought into 
camp had proved to be innocent peasants, and expected 
to see another old woman, a village gossip that had roused 
the suspicions of our brave fusiliers. You may imagine 
my astonishment when I beheld the young woman who 
was forcibly led into our improvised salon. Yes, a 
young woman, with the dusky beauty and gleaming 
eyes of Meyerbeer’s Africaine, and not unlike Lucca 
when she first appears in that rdle. From the soles of 
her tiny bare feet to her blue-black hair, which was 
tied back with a red ribbon, the woman was a beauty ! 
That she was a child of the south, perhaps of gypsy 
blood, one could see at a glance. It is only very rarely 
that our northern sun paints such gold-brown tints on 
cheek and neck ; gives such brilliant hues to lips and 
hair. 

“ I was lost in admiration of the lovely creature who, 
when she came nearer, suddenly gave utterance to an 
exclamation and, with her eyes aflame, stretched both 
hands toward the rear of the tent. 

“ ‘ La !— la !’ 

“ Every glance was at once directed toward the spot 
where stood Major Hilgersdorf, a derisive smile on his 
bearded lip, an angry frown wrinkling his brows. An 
amusing thought rose in my mind, I laughed involun- 


REMINISCENCES. 


93 


tarily. Hilgersdorf shot one furious glance at me, 
then with his finger against his helmet turned to the 
general. 

“ ‘ Pardon, your excellency. This is rather embar- 
rassing for me. I am afraid I am the innocent cause 
of this disturbance. This woman is no spy, but a harm- 
less lunatic. I met her by accident at Podol, since 
which time she has persisted in annoying me. An Aus- 
trian told me parts of her history. She is an Italian, 
and in charge of sutler’s stores accompanied Garibaldi’s 
army in ’59. She fell in love with a German, who was 
afterward shot by one of her countrymen, and that 
caused her derangement. With your excellency’s per- 
mission I will speak to her.’ 

“ The general smilingly shook his finger at Hilgers- 
dorf. 

“ ‘ Major, major !’ he repeated in a low tone. ‘ A Don 
Juan on the battlefield ? What if this became known 
in Berlin ? But I will excuse you this once, only don’t 
let it occur a second time. Take the girl away, lovely 
women, though they be not spies, bring only trouble.’ 

“ Hilgersdorf bowed ; one could see by the expres- 
sion on his harsh features how he had received his 
superior’s mild reprimand. 

“ The general asked a few questions of the ordnance 
officer, and very soon 'became convinced that the poor 
woman, had been arrested without cause. Then he 
nodded a dismissal to Hilgersdorf, who said to the 
woman, in fluent Italian, I was surprised to hear. 

“ ‘ Come with me, Carmella ; I want to speak to you,’ 
and willingly, like a carefully educated dog, the poor 
creature followed him.” 

The hand in which Baron Menken held the diary 
here sank to his knee. He rested his head against the 
back of the chair, closed his eyes, and let his thoughts 


94 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


wander amid the scenes of the past which had been 
recalled by this record in his diary. 

“ A number of German officers were quartered, after 
the capitulation on the i6th of February, I871, in a 
castle near Belfort, which belonged to Vicomte Saint- 
Estain. 

“The chateau^ whose proprietor, a French nobleman 
who, notwithstanding the threatening and hostile as- 
pect of the environment, had persisted in remaining in 
his home, to-day had more the appearance of a bar- 
rack than a gentleman’s villa— a barrack, however, 
that contained all the modern conveniences and lux- 
uries. 

“ The vicomte, a man of thirty-odd, of distinguished 
appearance and manner, hospitable and generous, had 
received his uninvited guests as cordially as if they were 
his most welcome friends. Wine flowed in such boun- 
tiful streams, the table groaned under such an abun- 
dance of delicacies that the Germans wondered how their 
courteous host managed to procure such stores in that 
famished neighborhood. 

“ The vicomte himself, however, rarely joined his 
guests in their feasting, a breach of etiquette perfectly 
understood and commended by the victorious officers. 

“ On that eventful day, the i6th of February, most of 
the officers quartered at the chdteau withdrew to their 
own rooms, after a dinner that would have tickled the 
palate of a Lucullus. The fatigues of the last days had 
been trying, and the officers knew not what might yet 
be in store for them. Consequently they sought a much- 
needed rest. A few, however, of the hardier ones re- 
mained longer over their cigars and coffee ; and of these 
few a majority presently repaired to the card-room to 
indulge in a game of hazard. 

“ Four players took seats around the card-table. The 


REMINISCENCES. 


95 


bank was in charge of a tall, strikingly lean man wear- 
ing the uniform of a lieutenant — a man with a shaggy 
mustache, of bilious complexion and harsh features, 
which even an occasional rude laugh could not soften. 

“ Facing the lieutenant sat a friend of vicomte's^ 
who happened to be staying at the chdteau. The Mar- 
quis Du Cat was a man who showed to the enemies of 
his country only his most amiable side. He was a cava- 
lier from crown to sole. At first his betting had been 
very moderate, but he very soon increased his ventures 
when he found that his companions were willing to do so. 

“ The other players were a major of the staff and a 
cavalry captain, an athletic fellow of powerful propor- 
tions. 

“ The lieutenant was very lucky — quite the opposite 
of the tall cavalry officer. 

“ ‘ Well, baron, do you wish to stop now, that you may 
preserve your luck in love ?’ banteringly inquired the 
lieutenant. 

“ The captain started and frowned. There was 
something like a sneer in the lieutenant’s allusion to 
the old adage. 

“ ‘ I am not superstitious, Herr Hilgersdorf,’ he re- 
turned quietly. ‘ But as I have lost three thousand 
dollars to you — all my ready cash, I confess — perhaps I 
would better stop.’ 

“ ‘ If that is your only reason, you may as well con- 
tinue in the game,’ returned the lieutenant. ‘ I am 
perfectly willing to take your I O U, you know.’ 

“ The captain glanced in a peculiar manner toward 
the speaker as he thrust his hand into his breast-pocket 
and drew forth a note-book. He penciled several 
figures on a blank page, tore it out, and tossed it 
carelessly into one of the divisions chalked on the table. 
The paper fell into the space marked ‘ rouge’ 


96 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Lieutenant Hilgersdorf glanced at the figures, then 
turned up the card ; 

Noir gagne, rouge pcrd ! You unlucky to-day, 
baron,’ he observed, with a peculiar twitch of his eye- 
lid. Then he took up the I O U and read aloud : 

“‘Good for three thousand!’ Adding, in a lower 
tone to the baron : ‘ You are very imprudent !’ 

“ ‘ Beg pardon, lieutenant,’ was the curt response, 

‘ but that is viy affair ! Will you accept any more due- 
bills ?’ 

“ The lieutenant nodded assent, and the baron tossed 
into ‘ rouge ’ another note-sheet on which he had scrib- 
bled : 

“ ‘ Double the former sum.’ 

“ Again the cards fell, and again red was the 
loser. 

“ The athletic captain’s face flushed slightly ; he bit 
his lip and again reached for his note-book. 

“ ‘ Don’t be offended, captain,’ said Hilgersdorf, ‘ but 
really my conscience will not permit me to accept any 
more high stakes. I cannot, indeed I cannot take any 
more.’ 

“A sarcastic smile passed over his opponent’s face : 

“ ‘ Pray, don’t be afraid,’ he returned shortly, flinging 
the third sheet on rouge. ‘ There are ten thousand as 
a last venture.’ 

“ Two crimson spots appeared on Hilgersdorf’s thin 
cheeks. He shuffled the cards, the marquis cut, and 
the game was renewed. 

“ At this moment the major, a slender, grave-feat- 
ured man, who was seated behind Herr Von Hilgers- 
dorf, rose noisily and strode toward the door. 

“ The captain looked up quietly, and inquired : 

“ ‘ Where to, my dear Hackert ?’ 

“ To duty !’ was the brief response ; but brief as it 



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REMINISCENCES. 


97 


was, the captain fancied that the voice which pro- 
nounced it trembled perceptibly. 

“ The door closed, and with the clicking- sound of the 
latch came Hilgersdorf’s monotonous : 

“ ‘ Noir gagne, rouge pcrd !' 

*****!/: 

“ Night had fallen on Chateau Saint-Estain — a dark, 
starless, winter night. 

“ Outside, in froht of the castle gates, paced the 
guards, their deep collars upturned to ward off the 
snow flakes, which were driven by the keen north wind 
into a whirling dance. The windows of the castle were 
dark — all except one at the extreme corner. Here a faint 
light glimmered, and beyond the frosted panes might 
be seen, at intervals, the dark outlines of a tall form. It 
was the baron. Two days before he had ridden almost 
twenty-four leagues, and had hardly rested any since 
then ; but he could not sleep to-night. The chaotic 
thoughts, coursing so wildly through his brain, banished 
slumber from his eyes. 

“ On the table by his bedside lay a loaded pistol. 
Twice already he had stopped beside the table and 
taken the weapon in his hand. What would be the re- 
sult were he to place the cold muzzle against his temple 
and press the trigger ? A report, a little cloud of 
smoke, and the world would be rid of one more disap- 
pointed life. 

“ The war had broken out just at the right moment 
for this mad baron, whom neither the dust of legal doc- 
uments nor the frivolity of court life, neither diplomatic 
quibbles nor the seclusion of his Lusation chateau could 
satisfy. 

“ Here, there, everywhere he had squandered money 
for amusements, luxuries, imprudent charities — sense- 
lessly, thoughtlessly — until there came an end to his 


98 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


money, as well as to his enjoyment of such a life. At 
this time the turmoil along the Rhine began. Could 
anything have happened more opportunely for him, who 
was at a loss which way to turn, than this war with its 
hundred and one contingencies ? 

“ Of one contingency, however, the baron never 
dreamed — that he, always the most fortunate of players, 
should one day meet the demon of ill luck ! A bullet 
in his heart, a sword-cut on his dead, shattered limbs — 
any of these he had believed probable ; but ill-luck at 
cards, never ! Like all men of the world the baron 
was fond of games of hazard. He played cautiously, 
therefore successfully in the main. Only once he had 
neglected his usual caution, and that once had wrecked 
his honor. 

“ Yes, that was the plain fact, and the baron did not 
try to conceal it from himself. In the brief space of 
five minutes he had lost nineteen thousand dollars, a 
sum that, according to the inexorable law among men 
of honor, would have to be paid before the evening of 
the coming day, and he could not claim even a third of 
the amount. 

“ He knew very well that Hilgersdorf was a merci- 
less gamester, of whom it was said in confidential 
circles that he played with a professional rigor that had 
brought him a considerable fortune. 

“ The baron’s situation was a desperate one. In vain 
he tortured his brain for a comforting thought ; none 
came to his relief. He opened the door to let in some 
fresh air from the ice-cold corridor. What noise was 
that ? He was certain he had heard a whisper and a 
stealthy footstep. He listened a moment at the open 
door, then stepped back into the room, took the lamp in 
one hand, his pistol in the other, and went into the cor- 
ridor. 


REMINISCENCES. 


99 


“ Hera two foes confronted each other. Germany 
and France ! The full light of the baron’s lamp fell on 
the slender form and white face of the Vicomte de 
Saint-Estain who held firmly pressed against his 
breast a packet of papers. His other hand grasped a 
revolver. 

“ Saint-Estain was deathly pale, but his keen eyes 
unflinchingly returned the baron’s challenging glance. 

“ ‘ I am a guest in your house, vicomte,' said the 
German officer, ‘ but my uniform compels me to ask 
what you are doing here, and what are those papers ?’ 

“ The vicomte drew a deep breath and replied. 

“‘You shall have an account of my actions, monsieur, 
but let us first come into your room.’ 

“ He stepped to one side as he spoke, and revealed 
the slender lad who had been standing behind him. 
The youth was clad in the uniform of Prussia, but that 
he was no Prussian the baron saw at a glance. A dis- 
quieting suspicion flashed through the German officer’s 
brain, the vicomte noticed his hesitation and said smil- 
ingly. 

“‘You may take my revolver. I have no other 
arms.’ 

“ The baron waved aside the extended weapon, and by 
a gesture invited the Frenchman to enter his room. 
When the door was closed, Saint-Estain turned toward 
the baron. An iron determination rested on his thin, 
dark face ; he breathed heavily and deeply for several 
seconds before speaking. 

“ ‘ Permit me, monsieur,' he began in his- usual 
courteous tones, ‘ to make a proposition. If you will 
allow this lad to go free, and do not ask to examine 
these papers, I will give you one hundred thousand 
francs !’ 

“ The baron started as if shot. 


100 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ ‘ Vicomte !' 

“ Saint- Estain drew from his pocket a letter-case and 
laid it on the table.” 

The “ Diary of 1866 ” had fallen unheeded from 
Baron Von Menken’s hand to the floor. His thoughts 
were far away. Chateau de Saint- Estain stood before 
his spiritual eyes, while scene after scene of that drama 
of vthe past was enacted anew in his memory. 

He saw again the vicomte, on the fateful night, stand- 
ing before him, heard again the corteous tone. 

“ ‘ Don’t misunderstand me, monsieur, this is merely a 
matter of business between you and me. I give you 
my word of honor that I do not even know your name, 
nor do I want to know it. Why should you read these 
papers which, perhaps, compromise me, and which are 
of no personal interest to you ? You can do so if you 
insist — c'est la guerre ! But it will be a thankless task. 
Time presses, monsieur.' The vicomte looked uneasily 
at his watch. ‘ Here,’ laying his hand on the letter- 
case, ‘ are one hundred thousand francs. Let us 
go !’ 

“ What a flood of sensations had overwhelmed him in 
that brief moment ! What could those papers contain ? 
And why should the Frenchman ofEer so enormous a 
sum to protect them from strange eyes ? 

“ But why need he ask — he who stood on the verge of 
an abyss ? Was not this a rescuing hand stretched out 
to him ? Was not this his vanished good luck returning 
to him ? Would it be wrong to take this money, which 
would j-edeem his honor ? 

“ ‘ Yes, yes, it would be wrong !’ his conscience had 
cried aloud. ‘ It would be wrong, for you suspect, you 
knoiv, that this Frenchman means harm to your father- 
land — c'est la guerre !' , 

“ But his honor was wrecked here or there — 


REMINISCENCES. 


101 


“The baron forcibly straightened himself, laid his 
hand on the letter-case, and said in a toneless voice : 

“ ‘ You may go !’ 

“ The door opened and closed, then all was again silent. 
Deathly pale, trembling in every limb, with eyes wildly 
staring, the baron looked about him. Had he been 
dreaming ? No, he felt the banknotes rustle in his 
trembling fingers. 

“ Deeply agitated, he resumed his pacing, and sought 
to regain his usual calm by assuring himself that the 
vicomte's papers contained only family secrets ; that he 
would prevent any harmful result by keeping a close 
watch on the vicomte's movements. 

“ The reaction came at last, and, dressed as he was, 
the baron flung himself on the bed and closed his eyes. 

“ It was yet early dawn when he started from a deep 
sleep. He thought he had heard a knock at his door. 
The lamp had gone out. Pale leaden shadows filled 
the room and outlined curious forms on walls and ceil- 
ing. The wood on the hearth had burned to ashes ; it 
was icy cold in the room. 

“ Again there came a knock on the door. The baron 
rose wearily, thrust the banknotes into the table-drawer 
and opened the door. 

“ An officer, wrapped in a riding-cloak that was 
covered with snow, with muddy boots on his feet, stood 
before him and held out his hand. 

“ ‘ Grass Gott, comrade !’ he saluted heartily. ‘ This 
is an unusual hour for calling, but I am just returned 
from Belfort, and want to see you on business of the 
utmost importance.’ 

“ The baron started. He was becoming mistrustful. 

“‘Come in Hackert,’ he returned. ‘You must be 
half -frozen. I have a bottle of Madeira — it will warm 
you.’ 


102 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ He opened the bottle, filled two glasses, and giving 
one to the major, emptied the other at a draught. 

“Major Von Hackert sipped his slowly; his face was 
very serious. 

“ ‘ You lost a large sum to Hilgersdorf last night,’ he 
began, after an uncomfortable pause. ‘ I want to ask 
you, nay, I beg you, not to play again with him. I have 
reason to mistrust him.’ 

“ The captain looked up in surprise. 

“ ‘ What do you mean ?’ he asked. ‘ I don’t think I 
understand you.’ 

“ ‘ I will tell you. I have known Hilgersdorf longer 
than you have ; indeed, I was once quite intimate with 
him, years ago, before he had yielded so entirely to his 
corrupt nature. Twelve years ago he was in Italy on 
business connected with the war department, and I was 
there at the same time with my invalid wife. It was 
then I learned that Hilgersdorf is not the sort of man 
who is an honor to our army. Yesterday evening — 
don’t be startled, my dear baron — I distinctly saw that 
he was cheating you.’ 

“ ‘An officer ! My dear Hackert ! Impossible !’ in- 
credulously ejaculated the captain. 

“ The major shrugged his shoulders. 

“ ‘ There are knaves in all professions, my dear fel- 
low. But let me go on. You know that Hilgersdorf 
and the Marquis du Cat — that disagreeable Frenchman 
whose “ accidental ” presence in the cJidtemi directly 
after the capitulation roused my suspicions — are old ac- 
quaintances. They met years ago in Rome. Well, I 
believe this marquis to be a rogue, and I am convinced 
that he and Hilgersdorf were in league to cheat you last 
night. There is a difference between the cheating of 
a common plow-boy and that of a corriger la fortune. 
Morally they are the same — externally not. Had I de- 


REMINISCENCES. 


103 


tected Hilgersdorf last night in any of the awkward 
expedients resorted to by the ordinary blackleg, I should 
have seized the cards from his hands and flung them 
into his face. Didn’t you notice that Hilgersdorf in- 
variably gave the cut to the marquis — not once to you ? 
I suspected mischief at once, but as I had no convincing 
proof of their villainy, and as I am aware of my violent 
temper, I preferred to leave the room to starting a 
brawl. Hilgersdorf saw that you persisted in playing 
on rouge ^ and shuffled accordingly, giving the cut to the 
marquis. You know the result. It is easy enough for 
two sharpers playing in league to cheat an unsuspecting 
third party. I tell you this, my dear Menken, because 
I honestly believe Hilgersdorf to be a miscreant, and 
because I want you to promise not to play again with 
him.’ 

“ ‘ I promise, my dear Hackert, not only that I will 
never again play with him, but I will never — so long 
as I live — touch another card !’ 

“ The major’s smile was a trifle incredulous ; but he 
said heartily : 

“ ‘ All the better, comrade ; all the better for you ! 
God help you to keep your vow ! All games of hazard 
are inventions of the devil. And now, another thing : 
You will have to smile on your ill-luck and pay your 
debt — that can’t be avoided, cheating or no cheating ! 
It won’t hurt you to be cramped a bit ! You are said 
to be a rich man ; but, fearing you might not have at 
your convenience the required sum, I have taken the 
liberty to bring you this. You know it would be hor- 
ribly disagreeable to have to ask Hilgersdorf to wait — 
Why ! Great Heaven ! What is the matter ? My 
dear baron !’ 

“ The baron had leaned suddenly back in his chair ; 
his face was pallid, great drops of cold perspiration 


104 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Stood on his face. Oh, had this saving hand been ex- 
tended a few hours earlier ! 

“ ‘ Nothing — only a — momentary illness,’ he gasped, 
with trembling lips. ‘ I am — very tired. I overex- 
erted myself by my long ride.’ He filled his glass 
and emptied it slowly before adding, in a deeply 
earnest tone : ‘ I shall never — never, my dear friend, 
forget this hour ! I accept your generous loan with a 
gratitude too deep for expression. I may not be able 
to pay you for several weeks, for I — 1 am not so rich as 
it is supposed.’ 

“ ‘ Because,’ jestingly supplemented the major, to 
hide his own emotion, ‘ Providence has bestowed on 
me too large a share of the earth’s treasure. But let 
us drop the subject.’ 

“A few hours later Captain Von Menken sent his 
card to the Vicomte de Saint-Estain, requesting an inter- 
view. A heavy load had been removed from the cap- 
tain’s heart. He would return the vicomte' s money, 
and anything further would be decided by the moment. 

“ But the vicomte was not to be found. He had 
gone out — so said the servant — with the Marquis du 
Cat. 

“On the morning of the i 8 th a picket-guard was 
stationed about Chateau de Saint-Estain to the great 
surprise of its inmates, which was increased when the 
general in command of the troops quartered there in 
person examined the house from top to bottom, from 
salon to cellar, searching every cupboard, closet and 
chest ; turning over everything not nailed fast. 

“ It was not learned until later, however, that on the 
night of the 17 th, one of the outposts had fired at a 
balloon, which seemed to have risen from the Court of 
Chateau de Saint-Estain. 

“ The guard’s bullet, which tore a rent in the balloon 


REMINISCENCES. 


105 


and caused it to sink to the earth, fatally wounded one 
of the two occupant. The other one sent a ball into 
his own brain, preferring to share death with his com- 
panion to imprisonment by the Germans. From the 
packet of papers found on the person of one of the 
aeronauts, it was learned that they were the Counts 
Charles and Heribert de Saint-Estain ; and that they 
were to arrange a secret mode of communication be- 
tween the chateau and General Bourboki. 

“ In that hour Captain Von Menken learned the con- 
tents of the fatal documents he had cause to remember 
with such horror. 

“ The scene changes from the Chateau de Saint- 
Estain to a small ward in the barrack-hospital of a 
Rhenish city. On a cot, wounded nigh unto death, lay 
Major Von Hackert. Beside him, on a second bed of 
pain, rested the dreamer himself. The ‘ mad baron ’ 
had repaid the man who had rescued him from dis- 
honor — had repaid him amid powder and smoke. 
Chance had so willed that Menken should save the 
major from a death that threatened him from the saber 
of a French soldier, but not without fearful injury to 
himself. 

“ The friendship of the two German officers was more 
firmly cemented in that sick-room ; and thus it came 
about that the baron one day revealed to his comrade 
his whole past, without sparing himself, without keep- 
ing back one fact connected with the fateful February 
night in Chateau de Saint-Estain. 

“That night had been the turning-point in the ‘mad 
baron’s ’ frivolous life ; it had changed the spendthrift 
and dissolute, if generous-hearted youth, to a silent, 
thoughtful, almost whimsical man. 

“ Sad hours lingered in that sick-room. The major’s 
wounds were threatening, and for a time the angel of 


106 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


death hovered very near to the prostrate warrior. 
Those were anxious days and nights. Only when the 
lilacs outside the window began to bloom, and the 
robins every morning wakened the invalids from their 
slumbers, did the brave major begin to mend.” 

When Menken remembered the night his friend 
Hackert died — the old wounds at last asserted their 
power ! — every fiber in his heart quivered with anguish_ 
Why, why, had he hastened, by his hateful conjec- 
ture, the dying soldier’s end ? And yet, when he 
recalled the scenes of the past, when he remembered 
what Hackert had confided to him during those hours 
of suffering in the hospital, he felt that his conjecture 
was true. Three images rose before him, and three 
names fell unconsciously from his lips : 

“ Carmella. Hilgersdorf. Lucia !” 

The clock on the mantel struck nine. Baron Menken 
rose wearily, walked to his writing-table and, opening 
a secret drawer, took from it a securely tied packet of 
letters. 





CHAPTER X. 

GOSSIP. 

In one of the upper rooms of the Cafe Bauer four 
gentlemen were seated around a table near the window. 
Herr Blenkner, Assessor Pringsberg, Doctor Rahlouand 
Herbert von Hackert were accustomed to meet here. 
The journalist to look over the newspapers, the other 
three to discuss, over a bowl of mtHange, the latest 
scandai. They never were at a loss for a subject, and 
Doctor Rahlou not infrequently returned to the edi- 
torial rooms, richly laden with piquant items, and the 
next day Pringsberg would fly into a rage on reading 
one of his choicest bits of gossip in the doctor’s column, 
but so elaborated that he hardly recognized it. 

To-day again the assessor was very angry, and gave 
Rahlou plainly to understand that he was so. The jour- 
nalist, however, merely shrugged his shoulders and re- 
torted that it was the duty of the press to supply its 
readers with all the latest news and most interesting 

[107] 


108 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


items. The little altercation was enjoyed by the other 
two men. “ Still-Life ” Eugene was leaning over 
Hackert’s shoulder, and with him was reading the 
article in question. One could see by their faces that 
they were entertained. 

The article, which was signed “ R ” was as follows : 

“ What Love Will Do. 

“ We have in our city an affable young artist whom we will 

designate as E . This young painter possesses great genius, 

so at least it is said by certain persons, though the offspring of 
this genius rarely finds a place in our art exhibitions. It is also 
said that the artist’s attractive exterior, his elegant, always fault- 
less attire, his pale, interesting face, dark languishing eyes, and 
curling brown locks, have much to do with his reputation for 
talent. 

“ There also dwells in our fair city a youthful and extremely 

beautiful widow, whom w’e may call I . The beauty has 

passed only twenty years, but three of them — the last three— so 
filled with care and trouble that they would have annihilated any 
less elastic and buoyant nature. 

“ La belle I — — ’s deceased husband was one of those splenetic 
old men represented in the modern drama as a type of the roue. 
Happily, when the old gentleman died — after a brief, and, it may 
be understood, unhappy union— he left his young wife a fortune 
that amply compensated for the misery she had endured. While 

she was still in deep mourning, I became acquainted with 

E , and, in the language of the day, it was all up with her ! 

Which she admired the more — his talent or the dainty mustache 
on his red lips, who can say ? Be it enough to know that she fell 
deeply in love, while he — ingrate that we must write him ! — he 
failed to reciprocate the passion. 

“ According to printed romance, the fair widow ought to have 
betaken herself and her disdained affections to a convent, there 

to weep out her life in bitter tears. But la belle I is not of 

that sort. She is peculiar and independent — unusual feminine 
attributes. She preferred to entangle the object of her adoration 
in a chain of roses. Her plans were original and simple. She 
repaired one day to E ’s studio, demanded a portrait of her- 

self, and requested that the sittings should take place at her own 

house. E , the innocent fellow, never suspecting any plot, 

consented. 

“How shall our weak pen portray these sittings ! In sober 
earnest he went to paint her in the fascinating Satanina costume 
her caprice had chosen. And she? From the battery of her 


GOSSIP. 


109 


dark eyes she shot burning darts, and brought all her fascinations 
to bear on Adonis — in vain ! 

“When E at last became aware that the ardor of his fair 

sitter’s glances threatened to singe him, he — fled! One day 
I waited in vain for her artist. In his stead came his facto- 
tum, an uncanny beldam, with a billet in which E , with a 

thousand apologies and excuses, declared himself unable to com- 
plete the picture. Shrieks, rending of garments, swoons, smell- 
ing-salts, wild despair — quite like a real tragedy — and then the 

conclusion. I flung herself into a cab and drove to the 

artist’s studio ! Great scene ! Sharp dialogue ! Reproaches! Per- 
fume ! E summons his female Cerberus. The lady is ill — 

help her to her carriage. Another reproachful glance — not un- 
mixed with rage — then the curtain falls. What will love not 
do?” 

“Well !” ejaculated Blenkner, flinging- the newspaper 
on the table. “ That is a trifle strong !” 

“ Strong?” repeated Rahlou, elevating his brows. 
“ In what way ? It is quite harmless ; besides, it is 
truth, and why shouldn’t the truth be told ?” 

•‘Beg pardon, most respected scribbler!” angrily 
interposed Pringsberg. “You print so many lies that 
it would not have hurt you to give the truth a little less 
conspicuously in this case. Was it necessary to men- 
tion names ? Any dolt can guess whom you mean by 

E and I . You may felicitate yourself on a speedy 

meeting with Waldau — he has seen your indiscreet 
scribble !” 

The tactless reporter became a trifle uneasy. He 
would have shrugged his shoulders, or elevated his 
brows, had he been told that Waldau would punish his 
insolence by cutting his acquaintance ; but the asses- 
sor's words contained a hint that the artist might 
demand the usual satisfaction for an insult, and that 
our journalist had certainly not counted on when he 
penned the article. He shuddered when he thought 
that he might be compelled to face the muzzle of a 
pistol. 

“ Did you see Waldau, to-day ?” he asked, turning 


110 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


insinuatingly to Pringsberg, who was enjoying the 
reporter’s secret anxiety. 

“Yes. I met him and Menken. Both were evidently 
greatly excited ; and I dare say Menken, as Waldau’s 
second, will soon be hunting you up. If you will take 
my advice you will spend the remainder of the day in 
pistol practice.” 

Rahlou assumed a careless manner. 

“ Do you imagine, my dear assessor, that I would 
consent to fight a duel because of a newspaper article ?” 
he demanded airily. “ I despise dueling as a sort of 
moral cowardice. If you care to read it I will send you 
a dissertation I once wrote on the subject.” 

“ Thanks,” laconically responded Pringsberg, “ your 
latest effort has taken from me all desire to peruse any 
more emanations from your intellectual brain ! I only 
want to say to you that if you wish to retain a right to 
join our circle here occasionally, you will have to 
cease considering us so many ink-horns into which you 
need only dip your quill to secure material for your 
articles.” 

Rahlou started to his feet, evidently offended by the 
assessor’s plain speaking. 

“ I am not compelled to seek your society for enter- 
tainment,” he retorted cuttingly. “ And you may rest 
assured, assessor, that in future I shall select the places 
not frequented by yourself.” 

“ A wise determination !” rejoined Pringsberg ; then 
to the waiter he had beckoned to his side : “ Here, boy, 
take this mug of mdange to the table Doctor Rahlou 
may select !” 

“That was the plain unvarnished truth you gave 
him !’' observed Hackert, laughing, glancing after the 
reporter, who took his seat at a distant table and hid 
his furious countenance behind the Illustrated News. 


GOSSIP. 


Ill 


“ The only way to prevent such obtrusive fellows 
from getting one into trouble,” responded the assessor. 

“ It was infamous to make public that bit of scandal,” 
remarked Blenkner. “ But its publicity does not de- 
tract from its interest. / enjoy it all the more, because 
I happened to be a witness when the order for the por- 
trait was given. Why in the world did not Waldau 
seize the golden opportunity and marry Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf ? A handsome little woman with lots of 
money ! He won’t be likely to get another chance like 
it. Sacre bleti, I wish I had an order to paint a ‘ Diavo- 
letta ’ under similar conditions ! But, unfortunate 
wretch that I am, / never get beyond a still-life for 
the counselor’s wife.” 

Pringsberg laughed. 

“ You are an unlucky dog !” he exclaimed jestingly. 
“ It must be a doleful task always to be painting dead 
thin^ as ‘natural as life.’ But, to return to Waldau, 
I don’t think it strange that he wasn’t captured by that 
American emancipated-female style of wooing. I sus- 
pect he has his eye on a fairer flower.” Here he glanced 
meaningly at the student. “ What have you to say on 
the subject, Herr Hackert ?” 

“ Nothing — nothing at all,” replied the student. “ I 
am not intimate enough with Herr Waldau to be 
familiar with his heart secrets.” 

“Ah, surprised I’m sure!” drawled the assessor. 
“ Perhaps you aren’t a frequent visitor at you cous- 
in’s T 

“ What do you mean ?” asked the student, sharply 
surveying the speaker. “ You don’t mean to imply 
that Waldau has intentions in that direction ? That 
Lucia — ” A loud laugh concluded the sentence. 

“I believe Waldau is in love with Fraiilein Lucia,” 
said Pringsberg. “ And fancy that he is not indiiferent 


112 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


to her. But, pray don’t mention this to any one, Herr 
Hackert ; remember it is merely a suppo.sition.” 

“You needn’t be afraid, I am not a Doctor Rahlou,’’ 
responded Hackert, still laughing. “ Waldau and Lucia ! 
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Well, they suit together, anyhow ! 
Ha ! Ha ! Ha!” 

“ And why shouldn’t they suit each other ?” Prings- 
berg was a trifle offended by the student’s continued 
merriment. “Waldau has his little peculiarities like 
the rest of us, but he ’s a gentleman through and 
through.” 

“ I don’t doubt it, not in the least, my dear fellow, 
and I am in dead earnest when I assert that they were 
made for each other. Waldau is to be congratulated, 
for Lucia is a regular beauty, somewhat after the 
Savoyard-style, it is true, but every one to his taste ! 
At all events she is as rich as the Hilgersdorf, and that 
counts for something ! Here, garfon, a champagne- 
cobbler ! Excuse me, assessor, but the affair amuses 
me so enormously that I must indulge in an extra 
cup !” 

“ If only the Hilgersdorf would accept me as a sub- 
stitute for my elusive colleague !” sighed “ Still-Life ’' 
Eugene. “ I am a deal better-looking than her deceased 
spouse.” 

“ You might easily be that,” laughingly returned the 
assessor. “ I ’ve heard the old general was a veritable 
monster of ugliness. Personal courage elevated him 
to his important military position. As a soldier he was 
splendid, as a private citizen, br-r-r ! Dreyfuss told me 
some awful stories about him ; he was a furious gam- 
bler, and it is said he had to quit the army against his 
will.” 

“ He died at San Remo, I believe ?” observed 
Hackert, sipping his cobbler. 


GOSSIP. 


113 


Pringsberg' nodded. 

“Yes. His widow owns one of the handsomest 
villas there. She bought it herself, and that was one 
of the many singular things she has done. The Hil- 
gersdorfs were staying in a pension when the general 
died, and because the lodging-house keeper did not 
want to keep the body in her house longer than one 
day, the widow bought the villa which happened to be 
for sale. It was a whim to buy a house merely to keep 
a dead body in it for twenty-four hours. I believe 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf has not been to San Remo since 
her husband died.” 

“ I dare say she ’ll visit it again on her next bridal 
tour,” observe Blenkner. 

Pringsberg shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Paint a nice little ‘ still-life,’ and present it to her, 
Blenkner,” he suggested. “ Perhaps that will touch her 
heart, and you will be allowed to share the comfortable 
nest by the blue Mediterranean.” 

“ Thanks for the suggestion, you are very kind to 
give me such good counsel.” 

“ Who is talking about our unhappy old counselor ?” 
interrupted a voice behind Blenkner’s chair. “ What 
are you saying about poor old Dreyfuss ?” 

Lieutenant Markwitz greeted his acquaintances with 
a familiar nod, seated himself in the chair vacated by 
Rahlou, and lighted a cigarette. 

“ We weren’t talking about the counselor,” replied 
Blenkner, “but of a species of ‘counsel ’ that has no 
connection with his office. But why do you call our 
old friend unhappy ?” 

“ What ! Haven’t you heard the news ?” 

“ Not a word. Some new sensation ? It is well 
Rahlou is not within hearing. What has happened ?” 

Markwitz blew a cloud of smoke from his lips and 


114 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


dropped a lump of sugar into the cup of coffee the 
waiter placed before him. 

“ It is no laughing matter,” he said soberly. “ His 
niece, Annie, has run away.” 

“ The sedate little Annie ?” 

“ That is news !” 

“ You are joking, Markwitz — tell us the truth ? What 
has happened ?” 

“ Ton my word. I’m telling you the truth. Annie 
Burger disappeared last night.” 

“ Great Heaven, man, explain yourself ! What hap- 
pened to the poor girl ? Was she abducted ?” 

“ Yes, ‘ abducted,’ as you call it, regularly and formally 
abducted.” 

“ Why, that is horrible ! Are we returning to the 
age of the troubadours ? Beg pardon, lieutenant, but I 
really cannot believe that you know what you are say- 
ing. Annie Burger, one of the most sensible of girls, 
forget herself so far as to elope with any one ?” 

“ Forget herself ?” repeated Markwitz. “ That ’s as 
you take it, my dear fellow. Society in general will, 
doubtless, say she has forgotten herself.^ Perhaps you 
will judge differently when I tell you that the name of 
her abductor is Doring.” 

“ What ! Doring ? Our cold-blooded Doring ?” 

“ The man with the heart of ice ?” 

“ My old comrade of the cadet corps, Doring ? Well, 
well ! I always fancied him a sly sort of chap, though, 
so I am not so much surprised as I might be. I dare 
say the little Burger has some money of her own, which 
she took with her ?” 

Markwitz cast a glance at the student, which was a 
sufficient reply for the cynical question, then turned to 
Pringsberg and said : 

“ The affair sounds more sensational than it is in 


GOSSIP. 


115 


reality, and as Doting is one of my nearest friends, I 
happen to know all about it. Doting and Miss Burger 
have loved-each other for a long time ; and when the 
counselor was asked to consent to their marriage, he 
refused so brusquely that there was no use to hope he 
might change his mind. So they decided to marry 
without his consent, as Annie is of age and her own 
mistress. Doting asked for a furlough, and at the 
same time sent in his resignation, which was accepted ; 
and the romantic tale of abduction turns out to be a 
very common-place, every-day affair. The banns have 
been posted for a fortnight in the register’s offfce — 
without the counselor hearing of it, however — and yes- 
terday afternoon, at six, the civil marriage was per- 
formed, Wedell and myself acting as witnesses. At 
midnight the abduction— that is, the wedding journey, 
began ; and the happy pair have, by this time, received 
the blessing of the church on their union in a neigh- 
boring city.” 

“ It is easily seen that we live in an age of steam and 
electricity, sagely observed the assessor. “ All that is 
needed to give a proper finish to the story is for Drey- 
fuss to wire a handsome dowry after his runaway 
niece.” 

“Which he is not at all likely to do,” laughingly ap- 
pended Markwitz. “ On the contrary, the old gentle- 
man is so enraged that he is in danger of an apoplectic 
fit.” 

“ Then the dowry will not be forthcoming, and Dor- 
ing has next to nothing,” remarked Blenkner. 

“Very little. He will receive the pension for his fif- 
teen years’ service, but that is not much. Annie has a 
little money, I believe — enough to keep the traditional 
wolf from the door. Herr Hackert, to reply to your 
question of a few minutes ago, I must tell you also that 


lie 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


there are yet a few persons in oiir Mammon- worshipingf 
age who marry for love alone.” 

The student bowed mockingly : “Thanks' for the in- 
formation, my dear lieutenant, I was not aware of the 
fact !” 

“ What does Doring intend to do ?” inquired Blenk- 
ner. 

“ He expects to get a position in some engineer corps. 
He is a clever fellow, has a good deal of technical 
knowledge, is indefatigably industrious and obstinately 
persevering. Men with such qualifications are always 
in demand.” 

“ It is a pity, however, that he cannot remain in the 
army — he is so superb in his uniform ! I should like to 
paint his portrait — ” 

“ He isn’t a ‘ still-life,’ ” interposed Pringsberg. “ But 
look, there come Waldau and Menken ! They have 
stopped at Rahlou’s table. Now we shall see some 
fun !” 

All glances turned toward the designated table ; but 
the assessor was disappointed in his expectations of 
“ fun.” 

Waldau stopped close beside the journalist, and said 
in a low tone : 

“ I want to see you alone. Will you come with me 
into the next room for a few moments ?” 

Rahlou, whose face had grown pale, rose at once. 

“With pleasure, Herr Waldau,” he returned, with 
forced composure ; and the two men — to the disap- 
pointment of the little gossip-clique at the neighboring 
table — disappeared beyond the door of a “ reserved ” 
cabinet, while Menken, after waving a greeting toward 
the assessor and his companions, took a seat at another 
table. 

“The article,” began Waldau, after a moment’s sur- 


GOSSIP. 


117 


vey of the man standing before him, “ signed ‘ R ’ 
in your newspaper this morning is from your own pen, 
I believe ?” 

“ I have no reason to deny it, Herr Waldau,” re- 
sponded the journalist, assuming a bold front. 

A slight flush reddened the young artist’s cheeks ; 
he thrust his hand into the pocket of his coat and 
stepped back a pace. 

“ Will you tell me your object in writing the infamous 
report ?” he asked. 

“ It was written merely to entertain my readers, Herr 
Waldau.” 

“ At my expense, Herr Rahlou ? Or did you imagine 

that no one would guess who were meant by the E 

and I of your interesting romance ?” 

“ I doubt if any one has guessed it, Herr Waldau. 
Moreover, ' I can’t understand why you, my dear 
friend — ” 

“ Don’t call me your friend !” savagely interrupted 
Waldau. “I forbid that sort of familiarity from you ! 
Now listen to me : I want you to retract in to-morrow’s 
paper every word of that scandalous story — ” 

Rahlou interrupted him by a despairing gesture. 

“ Ask anything but a retraction, Herr Waldau — any- 
thing !” he exclaimed pleadingly. “ It would cost me 
my situation — my salary — my whole future ! Oh, you 
would not believe what a tyrant is our employer ! A 
retraction — a contradiction, and we are discharged — 
ruined ! Believe me, my dear Herr Waldau, that 
article is not so bad as you imagine. Indeed, I believe 
that were you to bring suit against me for it I should 
be acquitted.” 

“I bring suit against That the filthy scandal 

might be further nourished ! I wonder what you take 
me for, Herr Rahlou ?” 


118 


Invisible hands. 


“ Oh let the matter drop, Herr Waldau, I admit 
that I was wrong in using the letters of your own and 
the lady’s name, but, depend on it, my dear Herr Wal- 
dau, the whole affair will be forgotten in three days. 
The grass will have grown over it by the end of the 
week, /know the public !” 

“ Then you refuse to retract ? Refuse me the only 
satisfaction I am justified in demanding, for I will not 
fight a creature like you ?” 

“ I must refuse, believe me. My very existence is at 
stake. I — ” 

“ Then,” interrupted Waldau, drawing his hand, in 
which he held a glove, from his pocket. “ Then I shall 
allow myself the pleasure of chastising you as one does 
a school -boy. Take that, you cowardly cur !” striking 
the journalist full in the face with his glove. 

Rahlou grew pale as death but did not stir. 

“ Why don’t you defend yourself, coward ?” exclaimed 
Waldau. “ I can’t continue to strike a defenseless 
creature.” 

Rahlou merely drew himself up, and with affected 
disdain, replied : 

“ I don’t make a practice of fighting in public places, 
Herr Waldau. Amusements of that sort I leave for 
students and artists. But do not imagine that I don’t 
know how to avenge a blow !” 

Waldau cast on him a withering glance, turned on 
his heel and joined Menken in the outer room. Five 
pairs of eyes at the assessor’s table turned toward 
Rahlou when he appeared, but he pretended not to 
notice them. He emptied his glass with a careless air, 
flung his cloak around his shoulders and sauntered out. 

As he passed through the doorway, Herbert von 
Hackert rose, excused himself, and hastened after Rah- 
lou, whom he overtook on the steps. 


GOSSIP. 


119 


“ Waldau insulted you?” he said in a low voice. 

“ Insulted me ?” in a surprised tone, repeated the 
journalist. “ Far from it ! Our conversation was quite 
an agreeable one. An immature youth like Waldau 
could not insult me.” he added, with a lofty air. 

“ So it would seem !” with a peculiar smile responded 
Hackert, letting his glance rest on the crimson mark 
across the reporter’s forehead, nose and cheek. “ Now 
what would you say, Rahlou, were I to offer you a 
chance to get even with this ‘immature youth — ’ to re- 
taliate in a more effective manner than by a blow or a 
pistol shot ?” 

Rahlou halted and looked sharply at the student. 

“ Do you come as friend or foe ?” he asked, with a 
sudden change of manner. 

“ As friend — still more, as confederate. I need your 
services, your pen. But first I must have your guar- 
antee not to blab, as you do usually — at least not until 
I give you permission.” 

“ I can be mute enough, my dear Hackert, when dis- 
cretion seems the wiser part.” 

“ That is well. Come with me to the ‘ Rothe Meer.' 
We shall not be disturbed over our wine there.” 

They stepped to the pavement and walked together 
down the street — two kindred souls. 




f ' CHAPTER XI. 

I, ucia’s plans. 

Counselor Dreyfuss sat at his desk, writing. A re- 
markable change had come over the old gentleman in 
the last weeks. True, his snowy waistcoat still de- 
scribed the same imposing rotundity, the carefully 
shaven cheeks were still as full and rosy, but the calm, 
self-composed manner, the hearty good-humor of for- 
merly, had disappeared, and he now gave one the im- 
pression of a man who had lost all enjoyment in the 
pleasures and possessions of life. 

The counselor was already well up in the fifties ; but 
no one had ever noticed in him the passage of so many 
years until now. Now the sharp lines which buried 
themselves deeply between the brows, at the corners of 
the eyes and the mouth were plainly noticeable. Every 
feature, in fact, bore some trace of the age which had 
come so suddenly upon this man who, only a few short 
weeks ago, had justly boasted that he was a “ youth in 
spite of his years.” 

The counselor had passed through some bitter hours. 
He was a whimsical old gentleman, with odd fancies 
and peculiar ideas. Aided only by his own energy and 
perseverance he had lifted himself from a lowly posi- 
tion to the ambitious height of his present office, by 

[I20] 


Lucia’s plans. 


121 


his own energ-y and perseverance had won a place in the 
charmed circles of the “ best society.” One happiness, 
however, had been denied him — the possession of 
children of his own. He had, therefore, showered all 
the love of his nature on his niece Annie. He was 
very fond of the shy, deer-eyed little maid, with her 
gentle voice and manner ; and expected, in return for 
the father’s love he gave her, to exercise a father’s 
right. His vanity, which had been nourished by asso- 
ciation with the upper circles, had laid a thick stratum 
of pride around his originally kind heart. His office and 
the orders in his button-hole had ceased to satisfy his 
craving for fame. His desire now was to possess a 
title — a title that would give him the entree to the court 
circles. There were so many upstarts in Berlin who 
had attained this miich-to-be-desired object, why should 
not he succeed ? 

He must succeed, and the nearest way to a title was 
through his niece’s marriage with an aristocrat. He 
never doubted . that Annie, who owed so much to him, 
would refuse to lend her assistance to the scheme — not 
even when that shy maiden declared her intention to 
marry the man she loved, did her worthy uncle imagine 
for a moment that she might disobey him. Therefore, 
he set about to look for a suitable son-in-law, and was 
not long in making a selection. 

Baron Von Menken was the man who could best 
further the ambitious councilor’s scheme. The baron’s 
coat-of-arms exhibited a nine-pointed coronet, he was 
on intimate terms at court, was a distinguished-looking 
personage — a gentleman in every sense of the word. 
What more could any one desire ? 

That Menken was twenty years Annie’s senior was 
of as little concern to Herr Dreyfuss as was the fact 
that the baron might not be willing to enter the Drey- 


123 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


fuss family as a son-in-law. Annie would inherit near 
to a million, and a million — so argued the counselor — 
was surely enough to satisfy anybody’s scruples, even 
those of a fastidious baron with a nine-pointed crown. 

Menken listened to the counselor’s proposition — 
which was made with the cold-blooded directness of an 
experienced business man — at first with an amused 
smile, afterward with a very serious expression on his 
grave face. He thanked Herr Dreyfuss in cordial tones 
for the intended honor, and concluded with : 

“ My dear friend, I appear younger than I really am 
at heart, which has made you fancy that I am a suit- 
able match for your niece. You are mistaken. I am 
not the sort of husband Annie ought to have. I under- 
stand perfectly what has made you so frank with me, 
my dear Dreyfuss, and that is why I am so candid in re- 
turn. I know the world better than you do. I have had 
many glimpses behind the scenes of life’s theatre, and 
my experience has taught me that marriages of con- 
venience are always followed by sorrowful results. I 
do not claim to be a moralist, nor am I puritanical in 
my ideas, but I have the profoundest reverence for 
what we call the voice of the heart where marriage is 
concerned. Only those persons can be happy together 
who truly love each other ; all other unions are wretched 
failures ! Look about you, my dear friend, and you 
will be forced to admit that I am right. You love your 
niece, and would be sorry to see her unhappy. Take 
my advice, therefore, cast from your generous heart all 
unworthy ambition, and bless the union Annie’s heart 
covets. You will be more content in the end, believe 
me. And now, not one word of this shall ever be 
known. Your hand, my dear friend !” 

When the counselor returned home after his inter- 
view with Baron Von Menken, his was not an enviable 


lucia’s plans. 


123 


frame of mind. He felt as does an ambitious speculator 
who has lost largely on a venture. 

But Herr Dreyfuss had an obstinate will. He de- 
liberated a while over the baron’s words, then ex- 
claimed : 

“ Incredible !” His favorite ejaculation. Adding 
aloud : “ Philosophic phrases won’t carry one through 
the world ! I learned that long ago. Menken means 
well, no doubt ; but he is mistaken. Marriages of con- 
venience a failure — humph ! Did I marry Therese be- 
cause I loved her ? And don’t we live harmoniously, 
in spite of our vastly different tastes and temperaments ? 
Menken ’s a fool when he adopts that moralist tone ! I 
ought not to have asked him to marry Annie. But 
there ’s time enough ; the child is still quite young, and 
I am still far enough from being an old man. There 
is no need for such haste.” 

Three weeks afterward Annie disappeared ; and the 
brilliant air-castle, founded by her uncle on a possible 
aristocratic marriage, tumbled to pieces. 

That was a gloomy day in the Dreyfuss mansion — 
the day after the young girl’s unexpected flight. While 
Frau Dreyfuss sat, silent and tearful, in a corner of her 
sofa with Annie’s tender, but resolute farewell letter in 
her hands, the counselor stormed and raged about the 
house, now cursing the ingratitude of his niece, now 
unloading his fury on the shoulders of Lieutenant 
Doring, whom he termed the “prime mover in the 
villainous crime.” That the lieutenant had renounced, 
for the sake of his love, a brilliant career ; and that 
he. Counselor Dreyfuss — he alone, with his ridiculous 
vanity and selfishness — was to blame for the young 
pair’s rash act, never entered his obstinate head. But 
the hottest rage will cool some time, and Counselor 
Dreyfuss after awhile became more calm. And now 


124 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


anxiety for the welfare of his favorite took possession 
of his heart. He had learned from Lieutenant Mark- 
witz that Boring had resigned, and would receive his 
pension, but that was all he knew about the young pair. 
What had become of them ? Were they as happy as 
they expected to be ? Were they free from care, so far 
away from all their friends ? Would Boring succeed 
in getting a situation that would support him and his 
young wife in comfort ? All these questions the coun- 
selor asked himself more than once, in secret of course, 
for to mention aloud the names of the “ runaways,” 
was to bring on an attack of hysterical weeping in his 
wife. 

But painful as was the .oss of his favorite, the deep 
anger Herr Breyfuss felt toward her husband was not 
softened by his anxiety. Vanity was so dominant in 
this otherwise excellent man, that all the more gener- 
ous emotions of his heart were suppressed. He could 
not forget that in losing his wished-for aristocrat son- 
in-law, he had lost also the opportunity of securing the 
talismanic prefix “ von,” and its attendant brilliant 
nimbus. 

“ Augustus !” 

Frau Breyfuss’s tremulous tones at his shoulder in- 
terrupted the counselor’s writing. He turned hastily 
toward her, and said, almost angrily : 

“ What do you want ? You come into the room like 
a ghost. I didn’t hear you. Bo you want anything ?” 

The rotund little woman, whose moon-shaped face 
even the copious tears could not rob of its ruddy fresh- 
ness, surveyed her husband with a wistful glance. 

“ The postman told me you got a letter with a — a 
foreign postmark,” she returned, hesitatingly, “ i 
thought perhaps it — it might — ” 

“ Be from your dutiful runaway,” interrupted Brey- 


Lucia’s plans. 


125 


fuss, gruffly completing the sentence for her. “ Of 
course you have no room in your thoughts for anything, 
or anybody but that little ingrate ! I am a secondary 
consideration since that girl deserted us so shamefully ! 
Indeed, it seems almost as if it was Annie who had 
managed this household. Pray, did it ever happen be- 
fore she ran away that the soup tasted of smoke, and 
that the chops came to the table half raw 

“ Never !” exclaimed his wife, with an indignant 
gesture. “ Never ! And I should never be able to for- 
give myself if it had happened. But, Augustus — ” her 
eyes filled with tears. “ Can I help it if my thoughts 
are constantly with my darling child? That I worry 
constantly about her ? That my heart is always trem- 
bling for fear something dreadful will happen to her ? 
All my closets are filled with the beautiful linen I in- 
tended for her, and who can tell if she has so much as 
a single towel for her pretty hands !” 

“ That she is not in such straits is proved by her 
letter,” responded the counselor. “ She writes from 
Goeschenen, where. Boring has an important position on 
the new railway. Here, read for yourself,” tossing the 
letter toward her. 

The worthy dame’s broad hands trembled as she un- 
folded the note-sheet, and tears flowed unchecked over 
her round cheeks, while she devoured with eager eyes 
the beloved and familiar writing. 

“ The dear child !” she murmured as she read. “ And 
to think that she does not suffer in that horrible Alpine 
region — with its avalanches and its glaciers, and the 
awful cold ! And Boring is an engineer on the new 
Gothard railway ? I am glad Annie is near a railway. 
Things are not so likely to happen when one is where 
one can get to one’s friends easily ! If only I knew 
that the food she has to eat is well-cooked. I think of 


126 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


the poor child every time I go into the kitchen. I dare 
say that is the reason the soup is smoky and the chops 
are raw. I don’t look after the cook as carefully as I 
used. What a nice letter the dear child writes, and 
how prettily she begs us to forgive her ! Augustus, 
you are not true to your Dreyfuss heart if you refuse 
to pardon the child for obeying the pleadings of her 
love.” 

“ Papperlapapp !" irritably ejaculated the counselor, 
moving uneasily about in his chair. “ I know very well 
what I am doing. Gratitude ought always to come be- 
fore love — that’s what / think. I wish them all good 
luck, but I can’t forget the trick they played on me. 
You see that Annie wants me to continue the manage- 
ment of her little fortune. Of course I shall do as she 
wishes, because I promised her father I would take care 
of the money for her. But I want you to understand, 
Therese — ” he became very emphatic here — “that a 
business intercourse is the onlv sort we hold with Annie 
and her abductor.” 

“‘Abductor?’” echoed Frau Therese. “What a word, 
Augustus ! You talk and act as if you had never in all 
your life been guilty of a foolish trick. The children 
only married without your consent, and I must confess 
I can’t call that a crime. /, for one, should love dearly 
to visit Annie next summer — ” 

“ Incredible !” roared the counselor, starting to his 
feet. “ Of course you will persist in acting contrary to 
my wishes ! I declare this constant irritation is mak- 
ing me ill. I must go out and take some exercise, or I 
shall have a nervous- fever. Pray give me my paletot.” 

The wife shook her head in silence, and, with re- 
proachful eyes, watched her spouse thrust his arms into 
his coat and stalk excitedly toward the door. 

He was passing into the hall when the front-door 


Lucia’s plans. 


127 


bell rang-, and a clear, girlish voice was heard inquir- 
ing if the counselor and Frau Dreyfuss were at home. 

“ Always to you, my dear Miss Von Hackert,” called 
the counselor, his irritation suddenly vanishing. “ This 
is very kind, to let us get a sight of your pretty face 
again ! And Frau Sporken, too ? That is good ! Pra)'-, 
come in. How well you are looking, both of you. 
Miss Lucia, I see, has entirely recovered from her long 
illness.” 

This was true. Lucia’s lovely face had regained its 
former color ; her eyes sparkled, and every movement 
of her slender form showed the old-time elasticity and 
grace. 

“ We have come, my dear counseler,” she began, “ to 
make a violent attack on you, and want you to promise 
in advance that you will do what we ask.” 

“ As if I could refuse you anything !” responded the 
counselor, bowing gallantly. “ I am all curiosity. Pray 
begin the assault at once ?” 

Frau Dreyfuss, according to her hospitable custom, 
had ordered cakes and wine when the callers entered, 
and her husband proceeded to fill the glasses. 

“You remember,” continued Lucia, taking the prof- 
fered refreshments, “ I spoke to you once of our desir- 
ing to find a comfortable place for the summer, and 
you said you and Frau Dreyfuss might join us. Well, 
we have decided that, as Berlin has nothing alluring to 
offer during the hot weather, we will hunt pleasanter 
quarters, and we intend to hold you to your promise to 
come with us.” 

“ I am not in the least inclined to break it, my dear 
miss,” promptly and heartily returned the counselor. 
“ I am not at all anxious to breathe the dust of Berlin 
streets. If my wife is willing — ” 

“ Indeed I am willing,” interposed Frau Dreyfuss. 


128 


INViSiBLE HANDS, 


“ I should be, and were it only for an opportunity 
to get rid of my present cook. You cannot guess, Frau 
Von Sporken, what a trial that woman is to me ! Only 
fancy, she can’t learn how to garnish properly a bmif 
a la jardiniere !” And the housewife proceeded in a 
whisper to relate the tribulations of the kitchen. While 
she was thus engaged Lucia turned again to the master 
of the house. 

“ I am so glad you consent to come with us, coun- 
selor,” she said, with an engaging smile. “ Of course, 
there would be no harm in our travelling by ourselves, 
although aunt does not fancy the idea ; but you know 
it is so much pleasanter to have a gentleman to look 
after the little disagreeables of a journey. May I take 
it iipon myself to map out our route ?” 

“ By all means ! I shall be only too delighted to 
follow so charming a guide.” 

“Thanks! You have no objection to Switzerland, 

I presume ?” toying rather confusedly with her para- 
sol. 

“ Switzerland ?” repeated the counselor, fixing a sud- 
denly suspicious glance on the girl’s downcast face. “ I 
see !” he added, after a moment’s silence. “I think I 
understand the object of your assault ! Do you know 
that Annie and DoringareinGoeschenen, and you would' 
drag me, by force or artifice, into their neighborhood, 
so that you might arrange a forgiveness-drama I Be- 
lieve me, my dear Fraulein Lucia, gladly as I would 
do anything to please you, this I cannot do !” 

Frau Dreyfuss no sooner heard the word Goeschenen 
than she broke from her favorite theme and, with Frau 
Von Sporken following her lead, joined forces with 
Lucia. The three women now besieged the counselor 
with such energy, that he was at last forced to declare 
that he would accompany them to Switzerland ; but a 


Lucia’s plans. 


129 


reconciliation with the runaways— to that he would 
never consent, never ! 

With this declaration Lucia seemed inclined to be 
satisfied. She told the counselor that she, too, had re- 
ceived a ''“charming” letter from Annie, who was “very, 
very happy,” and that she, Lucia, had hoped to arrange 
a “ forgiveness-drama but, of course, if the dear 
counselor could not bring himself to consent to a rec- 
onciliation, then there was no use to urge him further. 

When the two ladies had taken leave, Herr Dreyfuss, 
with frowning brows, paced the floor, growling occa- 
sionally under his breath : “ No, I won’t do it !” “ Stick 
to your resolutions, Dreyfu.ss !” “ Don’t go contrary to 
your convictions !” 



CHAPTER XII. 

THEMANINBLACK. 

“ Good morning, my dear baron !” 

“ Good morning, Signor Cadama !” 

The two men shook hands in a cordial manner, for 
the Italian avvocato and the German student had be- 
come close friends since the sigttor's first visit to 
Hackert’s apartments. 

Signor Giulio Cadama had taken apartments in the 
same building with the student. But his visiting-card 
now informed the public that he was a “ Teacher of 
Italian.” The former title “ avvocato” had been dropped 
for reasons best known to himself. 

Cadama drew forward a chair, and Hackert seatedhim- 
self. The student examined the carved ivory top of his 
walking-stick for several moments in silence, then said 
hastily, as if anxious to rid his mind of the petition 
which burdened it : 

“ I need some more money, Cadama. I am completely 
broke.” 

“ How much do you want ?” asked the Italian, with 
his peculiar smile. 

“ Two or three thousand marks will be enough this 
time. I want it for a friend who paid a debt of honor 
for me not long ago. He asks a similar favor of me 
now, so I can’t refuse.” 

[130] 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


131 


Signor Cadama took from his breast pocket three 
bank-notes and laid them on the table. 

“You young men squander a deal of money — much 
more than is prudent,” he remarked. “ But it is no 
concern of mine so long as it does not affect my personal 
bank account.” 

•‘You know very well,” rather tartly rejoined the 
student, “ that you will get back your loans, together 
with the usurious interest you demand, so what is the 
use of preaching ?” 

“You must remember that there is a bottom to my 
bag of money, my dear baron. It would not be very 
pleasant were our funds to give out before we had 
gained our object.” 

“ Then why in the name of Satan don’t you hurry up 
matters ?” angrily exclaimed Hackert. “ I can’t con- 
ceive what you are waiting for. Let ’s hand the whole 
thing over to the courts.” 

Cadama drew down the corners of his mouth and half- 
closed his eyes. 

“ Pray do so, my dear baron,” he interposed, calmly. 
“ But be sure to hand over, at the same time, sufficient 
proof to establish your case, else you will be laughed at 
for your pains. Do you imagine I came here merely 
for the sake of ruining my stomach with your Berlin 
beer ? Were our case as simple as you seem to believe, 
it might have been managed just as easily from Rome. 
If only you would follow my advice, without troubling 
yourself about my operations, we should probably get 
on more speedily. Will you be kind enough to sign 
this note, and you shall have three thousand marks.” 

Hackert glanced at the paper which the Italian laid 
before him, then signed it as requested, discreetly re- 
pressing the imprecation which rose to his lips when he 
saw the interest demanded. He was in Cadama’s hands. 


132 


INVISIBLE HANDS, 


With the Italian’s help he was to become a millionaire ; 
without it he would remain a beggar. 

“ There !” And Hackert flung the promissory note 
toward his new “ friend,” who calmly pocketed it. 

“ And now for some business,” said Cadama, opening 
his cigarette case and offering it to the student, “ I 
have some good news for you. You told me not long 
ago an amusing story about the runaway daughter or 
niece of a very rich man — ” 

“ Counselor Dreyfuss. Yes,” interpolated Hackert. 

“ Bene. And the young officer, for whose sake the 
young lady deserted the parental roof is a Lieutenant 
Doring. Not so ?” 

“Yes, yes, but I don’t see what that has got to do 
with our case.” 

“ Pray let me finish,” continued Cadama. “ Yester- 
day I received a letter from Francisco Boccani dated 
at Airolo, at the southern base of the St. Gothard. 
Among other items of interest, Francisco informs me 
that he has secured, through the influence of a friend 
of mine, a situation in the company which is engaged 
in excavating the Gothard tunnel. The lad, it seems, 
has won the confidence of his employers, who intrust 
him with important dispatches to the German engineers 
at the northern extremity of the tunnel. On one of 
his errands to Goeschenen he happened to make the 
acquaintance of a young engineer named Doring, who 
was formerly in the Prussian army, and one day over- 
heard Doring and his wife talk about a Colonel Von 
Hackert and his daughter Lucia. Francesco, who is a 
discreet youth, and knows how to keep his own counsel, 
writes to ask in what manner he shall deport himself 
toward these people.” 

“ A singular coincidence, indeed !” observed Hackert 
“ But I don’t see what benefit it will be to us.” 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


133 


Cadama blew the clouds of tobacco smoke in delicate 
rings about his head. 

“ It might happen,” he returned suggestively, “ that 
a meeting between Francisco and Lucia could be 
brought about through these Borings.” 

“ By Jove !” ejaculated the student with sudden ani- 
mation. “ I have an idea. I heard yesterday from 
Waldau, the artist, concerned in that famous scandal 
with Frau Hilgersdorf, that Lucia and her dame of 
honor are going with Counselor Dreyfuss and his wife 
to Switzerland. The counseler’s niece will, I have no 
doubt, seek a reconciliation with her millionaire uncle, 
and as Lucia is with him it is only necessary to instruct 
Francisco to ingratiate himself in such a manner in 
Boring’s good graces that the engineer will give him 
employment at the northern end of the tunnel. Ac- 
cording to your description of him, Francisco is a cun- 
ning lad; he will therefore understand how to win Bor- 
ing’s favor.” 

The Italian had listened attentively to the student’s 
speech — rather a long and sensible one for him. 

“That is not a bad suggestion,” observed Cadama, 
approvingly. “ Almost worth the three thousand 
marks I have just advanced to you ! Are you certain 
that the counselor’s party are going to Switzerland ?” 

“ I heard it at second hand, as I told you ; but Wal- 
dau is on such intimate terms with my reputed cousin 
that I have no doubt it is true. Since that affair with 
the enamored widow our artist has become so tre- 
mendously moral that he would not be likely to indulge 
in even a small fib.” 

“ Va bene, that is well !” vSignor Cadama lighted a 
fresh cigarette and crossed one knee over the other. 
“ I shall write at once to Francisco. If all my plans 
work as successfully, as I now have reason to believe 


134 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


they will, we shall be able ere long to strike the final 
blow.” 

“ It ought to have been given long ago,” growled the 
student. 

“ According to your idea, carissimo,” rejoined the 
Italian. “ You are wrong, however ; but let that go : 
Chi va piano va sano, and you, too, must have patience. 
By the way, have you seen Rahlou lately ?” 

“ Several times.” 

“ I hope you were not so imprudent as to confide in 
him all the details of the affair ?” 

“ I told him only what was necessary. He, too, is 
eagerly awaiting the moment to send off his dart !” 

“ He will not have to wait long. I dare say your 
generous heart prompted you to offer him a liberal 
share of the future ingots for his valuable services ?” 

Hackert rested an angry glance on the Italian’s iron- 
ical countenance : 

“ You must think me an idiot, most worthy signor !" 
he returned. “ No work, no pay — as you say. Rahlou, 
of course, expects to be paid for his services ; but 
money is a secondary consideration in this case. Re- 
venge is his chief motive. I told you the reason, I 
believe ?” 

Cadama nodded : 

“Yes ; and how — if one may inquire — are the tender 
relations between Lucia and Herr Waldau advancing? 
You know everything. I presume you are also familiar 
with such dainty heart secrets !” 

“Why in thunder should I concern myself about 
Waldau’s love affairs ?” exclaimed the student, im- 
patiently thumping the floor with his stick. “ I don’t 
care a rap whether he marries Lucia or not ? He only 
interests me in that he is hated by Rahlou, which is to 
our advantage. I don’t think you appreciate. Signor 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


135 


A vvocato, the power which the press exercises in our 
country ; nor do you understand the advantage it is to 
have the favor of this or that pen.” 

“ You are mistaken, baron,” responded Cadama, pass- 
ing his hand across his convulsively twitching lips. “ I 
do fully understand and appreciate all these advantages. 
The newspapers could very materially aid our cause by 
judicious reference to it. But it would have to be done 
with extreme caution, else the enemy might take alarm 
and manage to escape us.” 

“ Good heavens,” ejaculated the student in sudden 
alarm, “ that would be a calamity !” 

“Yes, indeed,” continued Cadama, “I mean just 
what I say. What would become of our project were 
Lucia to take it into her head to fly to a foreign country ? 
We should then have to conduct our case through the 
mediation of consulates, and I know by experience 
how that sort of business is performed !” 

“ That would be outrageous, I swear ! I see now 
how necessary it is to be cautious. We will have to 
keep a strict watch on the girl’s movements — ” 

“ I have already made all the arrangements necessary 
for that, my dear baron,” quietly interrupted the Italian. 
“ I merely mentioned the subject to show you how 
easily our plans could be frustrated. And now, to 
change the subject, at what hour does Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf ’s soiree begin T' 

“ Nine o’clock, I believe. It is not a soiree, however ; 
only a tea or something of that sort, which she is giving 
before she leaves town for the summer.” 

“ Ah, yes ; I remember she told me she wanted to 
take a look at the North Sea before journeying in the 
autumn to Italy. I trust we may meet Fraulein Lucia 
and her dame d' honneur this evening. I hope to be pre- 
sented to the former as the fair widow’s Italian teacher.” 


136 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Fran Von Hilgersdorf told me, when I called on 
her yesterday, that my ‘cousin ’ had sent an acceptance, 
so your wish is likely to be gratified. The devil only 
knows what the Hilgersdorf has against Lucia ! The 
tone in which she spoke of the girl .was anything but 
pleasant. I wonder if she heard of Waldau’s infatua- 
tion for Lucia, and if she is jealous !” 

Cadama laughed. 

“ Depend on it, she has ! Have you heard the Tuscan 
maxim : ‘ La donna e come la castagna, bella di fuori, e 
dentro ha la magagnal ” [Woman is like a chestnut — 
beautiful to look at, but with a worm in its heart.] 
“ The worm is jealousy, which comes with love. Who 
can say the jealousy in Frau Von Hilgersdorf’s 
heart may be of use to us. Will you call for me 
this evening ?” 

“ I think not,” replied the student, rising and draw- 
ing on his gloves. “ It is not well for us to be seen to- 
gether too frequently. People might suspect that we 
have interests in common.” 

“You are right. I am compelled to admire your sa- 
gacity to-day. If Lucia already knows the secret of 
her birth — and I am inclined to think she does — she 
will be easily startled. We shall, therefore, not meet 
again until this evening, in the Hilgersdorf drawing- 
rooms.” 

A cordial hand-clasp at parting as at meeting, and 
the two odd companions separated. 

******* 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf had invited only her more in- 
timate acquaintances to her house this evening. She 
had a special reason for wishing to see assembled in her 
drawing-room once more before her departure from the 
city, the old circle of friends. Her pride and courage 
prompted her to treat with silent scorn the scandalous 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


137 


report spread abroad by Doctor Rahlou’s scurrile 
pen. But she could not help fearing- occasionally that 
her reputation might have been affected by it. 

A Hungarian by birth, the fair widow was like the 
wine which ripens on the sunny slopes of her native 
land. And like the fire which slumbers in that famous 
beverage, a fervid passion smoldered in every fiber, and 
throbbed in every pulse-beat of this fair daughter of 
Hungary. She loved Elimar Waldau, and hers was one 
of those impulsive hearts that cannot wait for love’s 
advances. She knew that every word, every glance be- 
trayed her passion — but what cared she ? She was 
committing no crime in seeking to win the man she 
adored. She was merely acting contrary to the con- 
ventional code of society. 

But Elimar Waldau’s heart was already gone from his 
keeping, and the ardor which beamed on him from the 
young widow’s lovely eyes only repelled him, her un- 
feminine advances filled him with disgust. 

Lucia Von Hackert and Frau Von Sporken were 
among Frau Von Hilgersdorf’s guests this evening. 
Lucia had read Herr Rahlou’s article. Her cheeks had 
grown slightly paler, but she had made no comment 
when Frau Von Sporken indignantly pronounced the 
story a “vile fabrication.” The charitable old lady, 
however, knew that her young charge resented the in- 
jury done to one of her sex, when, on receiving Frau 
Von Hilgersdorf’s invitation, she sent an acceptance 
instead of the regret she would have otherwise sent, 
giving her mourning as an excuse. The maligned 
widow should see that the journalistic venom had 
failed in its purpose ! 

The last guest to make his appearance in Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf’s drawing-room was a gentleman, a stran- 
ger to the company. He was tall, slender and black- 


138 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


•whiskered ; he wore a black coat and waistcoat but- 
toned up to the throat, and carried a chapeau-claque in 
his black-gloved hand. The edges of his linen cuffs 
and collar w’ere the only touches of white about the 
singular-looking man’s dress. He looked like a mes- 
senger from death. 

He was introduced by the hostess as “ Signor Cad- 
ama,” and later, she explained to several ladies that he 
was her Italian teacher, 

“ You know, I expect to spend the autumn at San 
Remo,” she added, “ and my Italian needs burnishing. 
Herr Von Hackert recommended the signor to me, and 
I find him very clever and interesting,” 

While Counselor Dreyfuss chatted with Assessor 
Pringsberg and Lieutenant Markwitz in one corner, in 
another his wife, who had beckoned Lucia Von Hackert 
to her sofa, talked in a confidential manner to the 
young girl. Singularly enough the worthy dame was 
not discussing any new recipes for the kitchen, or 
giving directions how to remove wine-stains from table- 
linen. For weeks the subject of her conversation had 
been Annie Doring and her husband and, lately, 
Goeschenen and the St. Gothard. For the first time in 
her life she perused the newspapers, confining her 
reading, however, to the items concerning the progress 
of the Gothard Tunnel. From that hour the counse- 
lor’s peace was broken, for, notwithstanding his strict 
orders that Annie’s name was to be mentioned only in 
a “ business connection,” his wife found a hundred op- 
portunities to recall the “ disinherited one ” to his 
mind. 

When Frau Therese took her seat at' table she would 
sigh over exorbitant prices of the necessaries of life in 
Switzerland, of which she had read in the newspapers. 
When she prepared for her night’s rest she bemoaned 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


189 


the hard mattresses of the Italian boundary. When 
she lighted a match, she would be reminded of the ex- 
treme danger of the dynamite used for blasting. In 
short, the poor old lady was constantly sighing and 
fearing evil for the young pair at the foot of the St. 
Gothard, and every sigh was but another reproach for 
her husband’s obduracy and egoism. 

Lucia was glad to engage in conversation with Frau 
Dreyfuss, whose harmless prattle lightened the dull 
feeling which oppressed her heart. There is a legend 
still believed by the superstitious folk of Wallachia, 
that the vampire, clothed in somber black, and with a 
countenance of deathly pallor, will approach his victim 
'mid the merry dance and drink his heart’s blood. 

Lucia was suddenly and disagreeably reminded of 
this legend when she saw two piercing black eyes rest- 
ing on her. A sharp pain seized her heart. Who was 
this somber-garbed, pale-faced stranger beneath whose 
gaze her heart quaked with fear ? She had no faith in 
the Wallachian legend, but she remembered another 
one, equally dismal, that of the vial occho, and this 
stranger was a native on the land which believes in and 
fears the power of the evil eye. She felt almost as if the 
glance which rested so persistently on her was scorching 
and withering her heart. At last, unable longer to control 
her nervousness, the young girl rose, and begging Frau 
Therese to excuse her, moved forward to join a group 
of ladies who were gathered about Frau Hilgersdorf in 
a window recess. 

In doing so she was obliged to pass close by the man in 
black. Signor Cadama was standing beside an ebony 
table, the top of which was richly inlaid with mother- 
of-pearl, a piece of furniture which had been presented 
by a foreign princess to the deceased general. 

The Italicn, who was absorbed in examining a water- 


140 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


color that hung directly above the table, when Lucia 
passed, turned abruptly and addressed her ; 

“ Here is a remarkable coincidence, signorma” he 
said in his foreign accent. “ One would almost believe 
the female figure in this little bivouac sketch to be a 
portrait of yourself. Impossible, however, for I see in 
the corner ^ Fecit 1859,’ and at that time you had not 
yet opened your eyes on the scenes of this world. Look 
at it, signor ina. Can’t you see the strong likeness to 
your own face ?” 

Lucia came reluctantly nearer and looked at the 
picture. It represented a group of officers gathered 
about a camp-fire. On the right, a young woman in 
the becoming dress of a vivandibre stood behind an im- 
provised sideboard, in front of which were two men, 
one in the uniform of Austria, the other in civilian’s 
dress. The latter held in his hand a glass of wine, 
which he extended toward a second civilian, who was 
seated in front of an easel near a tent in the back- 
ground. 

Cadama was right, it was a singular coincidence. 
The delicately beautiful face on the canvas — the nose, 
the rounded chin, the dark eyes and hair ; every feat- 
ure, even the pose of the head, was the same as that 
of the young girl who stood surveying it. 

Lucia was astonished : 

“ An interesting coincidence, truly,” she observed, 
less in reply to Signor Cadama than to Frau Hilgers- 
dorf, who, at that moment, came toward them. “ May 
I ask what the picture is intended to represent, Frau 
Hilgersdorf ?” 

“ Merely an episode from a bivouac during the cam- 
paign in Lombardy, I believe,” returned Frau Hilgers- 
dorf. “ I found the sketch lately among all sorts of 
lumber, which had been cast aside after my husband’s 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


141 


death. I admire the picture — it is artistic in execution 
and a pretty bit of coloring-. The civilian on the fight, 
beckoning to the artist, is my husband. I remember 
hearing him speak of a gifted painter from Vienna 
who made several sketches during that campaign ; 
and I fancy the artist immortalized himself by painting 
his own likeness in this picture. You will find the 
names of the principal figures on the back of the can- 
vas.” 

“ I have always taken a keen interest in pictures,” 
observed the signor, carefully removing the sketch 
from its hook ; “ and find that real talent shows itself 
better in a hastily executed water-color than in the 
more carefully finished oil-painting. How exquisitely 
the figures of these two civilians are treated, and what 
a graceful creature is this vivandiere !" He turned the 
picture and looked at the back. “ Ah, here are the 
nances : ‘Baron Von Eynatheu, lieutenant; Captain 
Haberberg ; Lieutenant Von Hilgersdorf ; Paul Wyren- 
berg, artist ; Colonel Von Kissling ; La Bella Carmella, 
vivayidicre !' '' The Italian glanced from beneath his 
half-closed eyelids toward Lucia, and added, in a 
peculiar tone : “ So, ‘ Carmella ’ is the name of the grace- 
ful Hebe. Very likely she is — or was, perhaps I should 
say — a daughter of Liguria, or of Lombardy, which 
was captured from the gallant Tedeschi.” 

Lucia, who was talking with a lady by her side, did 
not hear the Italian’s concluding words, nor see the 
glance he rested on her. But Herbert von Hackert 
both heard and saw, and when Cadama turned, from 
restoring the picture to its place on the wall, let his 
eyes rest questioningly on the Italian’s inscrutable coun- 
tenance. 

Later in the evening Signor Cadama seated himself 
by one of the small tables littered with calendars, pho- 


142 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


tographs and gilt-edged volumes. He sat so that he 
eould see through the open door of the adjoining room, 
where Lucia von Hackert was standing beside Frau 
Dreyfuss. The young girl had raised herself on the 
tips of her toes, and stood thus with one arm uplifted 
toward the snowy calla-lily which crowned the apex of 
a pyramid of flowers. The full light of the chandelier 
fell on the girl’s youthful figure, whose exquisite grace 
and beauty were enhanced by the airy pose. 

The Italian was not the only one attracted by the 
girl’s rare loveliness. A second pair of eyes rested on 
her. 

Cadama saw the woman who stood in the open door- 
way half-hidden by the heavy portiere. It was Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf, who, imagining herself unseen, watched 
the young girl with an expression of hatred so intense 
that the Italian was startled. Involuntarily he rose to 
his feet ; but his movement caused the widow to retreat 
hastily. That he had seen enough, however, to satisfy 
him was proved by the smile on his thin lips, and the 
manner in which he rubbed together the palms of his 
thin hands. 

An hour later the company broke up. 

“ What do you think of the ‘ man in black,’ TantcJieji f" 
asked Lucia when they were seated in their carriage. 

Frau Von Sporken gave a little shudder. 

“ I never met any one who roused in me such an- 
tipathetic feelings,” was the reply. “ It is that sort of 
sensation one experiences when in. the presence of hid- 
eous reptiles.” 

Lucia leaned silently back against the cushions. She 
was thinking again of the legends of the vampire and 
the evil eye. 

Meanwhile, Signor Cadama and Herbert von Hackert 
walked arm in arm toward their apartments. 


THE MAN IN BLACK. 


143 


The Italian pressed significantly the hand lying on 
his arm and whispered : 

“ More good luck, my dear baron. I have discovered 
another ally, and one of inestimable value — Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf.” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Hackert. “ Do you im- 
agine that the deceased general was connected in any 
way with Carmella Boccani ?” 

“ I will forfeit my head if General Hilgersdorf was 
not the only one beside your uncle who knew the secret 
of Lucia’s birth. You remember the so-called burglary 
at the Hackert mansion the night your uncle died? 
You remember, also, that nothing was stolen ? I thought 
at the time that valuable papers might have been taken, 
and intimated as much in an anonymous letter I sent 
to the police authorities. I think now that I was mis- 
taken ; for I became convinced this evening that the 
private document, which I believed had been purloined 
from your uncle’s safe, was in Hilgersdorf’s possession, 
and is now among his papers — of which fact his widow 
is ignorant. Could we get hold of that document, my 
friend, we might at once play our cards openly. The 
general’s widow must be taken into our confidence ; 
and that she will willingly become an accomplice I feel 
certain, for she hates, with all the fury of her passionate 
nature, the girl who has won the heart of the man she 
loves, Lucia !” 

The student had listened with breathless interest to 
Cadama’s words. He now asked ; 

“ You must pardon me for questioning you. Signor 
Avvocaio, but I should like to know if you connect 
Lucia with General Von Hilgersdorf because you 
fancied you saw a likeness to my reputed cousin in 
that vivandi'erc — ” 

“ The sketch gave me an idea — nothing more !” inter- 


144 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


posed the shrewd advocate. “ Carmella Boccani was a 
vivandiere in Garibaldi’s army during the campaign in 
Lombardy in ’59. Lieutenant Von Hackert 4 nd Lieu- 
tenant Von Hilgersdorf were on most intimate terms 
with the fair Carmella. Do you gather any meaning 
from that statement ?” 

“ I think I do,” replied the student. 

“ All that is necessary,” resumed Cadama, “ to com- 
plete our evidence is that document ; and when we find 
it — as find it we must — then have a care, have a care, 
my pretty beggar princess 1” 





CHAPTER XIII. 

IDYLS. 

The sun was sinking to rest beyond the towering 
mountains. The snow-crowned summits glowed be- 
neath his farewell kisses, but twilight shadows were 
already gathering in the deep ravines. In the open 
valleys, however, it was still almost as light as day ; 
for the moon was rising — pale and shyly enveloped in 
a fleecy cloud-mantle, as if she were trying to hide 
herself from the sun’s last ardent glances. vShe waited 
until the crimson faded from the snowy heights, then 
she flung off her mantle and revealed herself in all her 
silvery beauty. Like a weary giant, resting amid the 
dewy blossom.s, so old St. Gothard’s mighty contour 
rose against the evening sky. And a weary giant he 
was in sooth ! For months a band of busy men had 
been laboring, digging and grubbing in his rocky 
bowels, shaking him with terrific explosions in their 
efforts to subdue his mighty bulk, so that he might be 
made a medium of communication between the north 
and the south countries. 

An open wagon was descending one of the narrow 
roads which led from the mountain into the valley. 
Three persons occupied the vehicle. Two sat on the 

[145] 


146 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


driver’s seat, the third occupied the swing-seat which 
was fastened to the sides of the wagon with leather 
straps. One of the men seated in front, he who held 
the reins, wore the costume of the region, a flowered 
waistcoat of red cloth, coarse linen knee-breeches, 
heavy woolen stockings and hob-nailed shoes. His 
seat-mate was certainly no countryman of his; he came 
from the south side of the Gothard, where the sun 
shines more warmly. His blue cloth cap rested lightly 
on a luxuriant mass of raven curls. Two large black 
eyes looked with changeful expression, now merrily, 
now gloomily, now with half-awakened longing — on the 
world about him. An artist would have been attracted 
by the lad’s face. His clothes, although of the plainest 
material, had about them that touch of jauntiness 
peculiar to even the lowly-born children of the south. 
His light neckerchief was carelessly knotted about his 
throat, the ends left to flutter gayly in the breeze. 

The passenger on the swing-seat was evidently a 
member of the upper classes, that, one could see at a 
glance, even though his face was browned by exposure 
to wind and sun, and the full blonde beard on cheeks 
and chin told plainly that they had not for weeks 
known the refining influence of a barber’s shears. 

He who, in those days, traveled in the St. Gothard 
region could tell at a first glance the profession of the 
man he chanced to meet. The closely-fitting jacket, 
the high boots into which the trousers were thrust, the 
rimless cap, the iron rod and small hammers protruding 
from a side pocket — this was the practical equipment 
of the engineers to whose indefatigable energy we owe 
the entire subjugation of the mighty mountain giant 
over yonder. 

The engineer had made himself as comfortable as 
possible, in the rather primitive vehicle. He leaned 


IDYLS. 


141 


against the leather strap which formed a sort of back 
to the swing-seat, and let his glance wander over the 
changing pictures to the right and left. On either 
side stretched dark-green pine forests, broken here 
and there by steep defiles and gigantin cliffs. Here, a 
slender veil of water leapt over a rocky wall, and 
moistened with its delicate spray the luxuriant mosses 
and ferns growing in the crevices. There, a mountain 
brook, swollen by the snow which was melting in the 
spring sunshine, found its way over mossy stones, down 
into the valley where it turned a mill-wheel, and 
washed the roots of the daisies and golden buttercups 
luxuriating on its banks. On the right, above the 
road, might be seen the substantial masonry of the old 
post-road, which curved its way along the mountain- 
side. Far below, in the valley, the iron path of the 
new railway came into sight at intervals ; while be- 
tween the trees, here and there, were occasional glimpses 
of the viaduct which spanned the rocky defiles, or a 
red-tiled watch-tower, clinging like a swallow's nest to 
the granite wall. 

The wagon road wound with abrupt turns into the 
valley, to Rosenholz — a picturesque hamlet amid ancient 
trees, with a mountain brook babbling through its 
single street. 

The wagon, with its three occupants, rolled down 
this street, in which a couple of children were playing 
and several dogs were barking furiously, toward a 
dwelling near the church. It was built on the so-called 
Swiss style, with over-hanging eaves, with large stones 
lying on the shingle-roof ; and was the home of the 
village pastor, Gottfried Stolze, who had lived here for 
over a quarter of a century. 

Another inmate had been added, in the last weeks, to 
the pastor’s household. The wife of one of the engi- 


148 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


neers on the Gothard Tunnel, who had come down here 
to escape the keen winds of the more elevated Goesch- 
enen, and who had found a pleasant home with the 
worthy pastor and his wife. The reader will, doubtless, 
guess at once that the pastor’s guest is Frau Annie 
Boring, the niece of Counselor Dreyfuss. 

On the open veranda of the parsonage, which was 
almost covered with ivy and convolvulus vines, stood 
Annie, watching with eager expectancy the road lead- 
ing to the mountain. No sooner did she catch sight of 
the little vehicle, and the handkerchief waving from the 
back seat, than she ran swiftly down the steps, through 
the neatly kept garden, and fell breathlessly into the 
arms of the man who swung himself from the wagon 
while it was yet in motion. 

“ Another kiss, you little recluse — another, and yet 
another !” he exclaimed gayly, pressing his lips again 
and again to her rosy mouth. “ I hope you won’t be 
afraid of this monstrous red beard. I vowed I would 
not touch the masculine ornament with shears or razor 
until yon obstinate giant was pierced through from 
north to south. We have not yet accomplished our 
work, and I am here for a few days merely to show my 
darling that I still live, and that the Alpine gnomes 
have not dragged me into their subterranean kingdom. 
Did you receive my daily budgets ? I wrote so fre- 
quently because I wanted you to know that I thought 
of you every hour.” 

Annie smiled lovingly up into her tall husband’s face, 
and pressed his arm more closely against her side as 
she walked with him toward the house. 

“ There !” he exclaimed suddenly, halting and looking 
back. “ In my joy at seeing you again, my darling, I 
forgot all about the lad Francisco, whom I have brought 
with me. See, there he stands, staring sorrowfully at 


IDYLS. 


149 


the clouds because you did not speak to him, poor lad ! 
He has learned enough German to enable him to talk 
with you.” 

Annie retraced her steps, and extending her hand to 
the young Italian, said, kindly : 

“ I am very glad to see you, Francisco — doubly glad, 
indeed ; for if it had not been for you I might have lost 
my husband.” 

The lad bent with courtly deference over her hand, 
kissed it, and blushingly stammered some unintelligible 
words. 

His strong young arm had, a few weeks before, been 
the means of saving Lieutenant Doring from a horrible 
death. The lieutenant was examining a successful 
blast, unaware that a mass of rock just overhead had 
been loosened and threatened to fall. Francisco, who 
was standing near, saw the mass move, and snatched 
the engineer from the dangerous spot just in time to 
escape the falling rock, which would have crushed him 
to death. From that hour Doring, who had already 
taken a fancy to the lad, became very fond of him, and 
treated him more like a friend than an inferior. 

The young couple were met at the door of the cot- 
tage by the pastor and his wife. The former was an 
undersized old man with white curls and a wrinkled 
face, in which were written his kindness of heart and his 
love for his fellow-men. Frau Stolze, in white linen 
cap and neat gown, was a feminine copy of her hus- 
band. 

Lieutenant Doring shook hands cordially with the 
worthy pair, and thanked them for their hospitable care 
of his wife. Then, after he had rid himself of the dust 
of travel, they sat down to supper. 

Meanwhile Francisco, assisted by the driver of the 
wagon, carried a heavy chest into the ivy-covered arbor 


150 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


in the garden, to which, after supper was over, the in- 
mates of the parsonage repaired. 

“Don’t be alarmed, my love,” said Doring, smilingly 
pointing to the chest. “ It contains neither dynamite 
nor blasting powder. Look at the postmark ; ‘ Berlin, 
S. W.’ Now what do you suppose is in the box ? You 
are not the only one who remembered my birthday 
last week. Read this.” He took a letter from his 
pocket and handed it to the wondering Annie, who un- 
folded it. 

“ Poetry ?” she exclaimed, then she read aloud ; 

“ ‘ Wohl bist Du geivorden ein And'rer, 

Du alter Kamerad ! 

Du grijffest zum Stabe, ein Wand'rer, 

Hast treulos uns verlassen, 

Die botnbenfesten Khawassen, 

* Flohst in die Aipenwelt ! 

“ ‘ Wohl miissten wir eigefitlich grollen 
Dir, alter Kamerad — 

Dock heute beitn Becker, beim vollen, 

Wie sollten wir da Dick noch hassen, 

Wir bombenfesten Khawassen 
Atif fernem markischen Sand. 

“ ‘ Wohl haben wir schlau es erfahren, 

Du alter Kamerad, 

Dass itzo vor dreissig Jahren 
Der Herrgott hat gelassen 
Dich, bombenfesten Khawassen, 

Zu7n Lebensthor hinein / 

“ ‘ Wohl kam tins just der Gedanke, 

Du alter Kamerad : 

Hei f soli er dock frisch 'mal und franke 
A uf Gotthard 's Felsenmasse 
A Is bombenfester Khawasse 
Sfrengen der Flaschen Spund ! 


IDYLS, 


151 


“ ‘ IVokl ivird er nns d'rum nicht ziirnen, 

Der alte Kamerad — 

Wenn wir auf die schneeigen Firnen, 

Don bombenfesten Khawassen 
Senden heut' sprudelnden nassen, 

Weingeist 'gen Dynamit P " 

Annie turned to the signature : “ His Imperial 
Majesty’s Bombproof Cavalry Corps, to our one-time 
comrade, in all good fellowship !” 

“ What do you think of it ?” asked Boring, laughing. 
“ I fancy Markwitz had a hand in getting it up, for he 
is the only one of my comrades who knows my birth- 
day. But, whoever it was, I am obliged to him for this 
proof of my old comrades’ affection.” 

He lifted the lid of the chest and revealed, packed 
in straw, a dazzling array of gold- and silver-topped 
bottles : Rhein and Bordeaux wines and the fettered 
foam-spirits of champagne. 

Boring turned to the pastor and his wife and 
said : 

“ I have a favor to ask of you, reverend sir. My 
birthday was last week, and as I was unable to cele- 
brate it up on the mountain, I trust you will not refuse 
if I invite you to share with me some of this generous 
remembrance from my old comrades. My young friend 
Francisco managed to get some strawberries from an 
acquaintance on the other side of the mountains ; and, 
as I understand all sorts of ‘mixtures,’ I think we may 
be able to’ celebrate my natal day with a decoction 
worthy such an occasion ! My first toast, however, 
shall not be for my own well-being ; but for the suc- 
ce.ss of the stupendous work in which three nations are 
peacefully engaged : the Gothard Tunnel !” 

It was not long before the “ mixture ” stood on the 
wooden table in the arbor ; and the old pastor, who 


152 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


knew something about the “ bouquet ” of grape-juice, 
was complacently sipping a trial glass. 

“ My respects to you, Mr. Engineer,” he said in his 
harsh, Swiss dialect. “ One need not be told that you 
can deal as masterly with chemicals as with nitro- 
glycerine and blasting powder. This union of in- 
gredients is perfect !” 

Doring acknowledged the compliment with a smile 
and a bow, then filled all the glasses. The little com- 
pany took seats around the table ; the lieutenant and 
his wife at the head ; then the pastor and his wife fac- 
ing each other ; and Francisco, who had been invited 
to join the feast by Doring, at the foot. 

It was a charming spring evening. The air was 
deliciously warm ; the sky a deep blue, and glittering 
with stars. Perfect quiet reigned in the village street ; 
only now and then the notes of an Alpine melody came 
from the lips of a distant milkmaid. 

The chief subject of conversation was naturally the 
tunnel. At the conclusion of Boring’s description of 
the work, the pastor lifted his glass and said : 

“ The first toast was for the success of your work, 
engineer ; the second one I drink to you, who have 
aided in the great undertaking. Here’s to you, Herr 
Doring, to your continued happiness and prosper- 
ity !” 

The glasses clinked musically together, and at the 
same moment a sonorous voice at the door exclaimed : 

“ Success to Lieutenant Doring and to his amiable 
wife. Had it not been for her he would not have 
given his aid in piercing the stony heart of old St. 
Gothard !” 

Every eye turned in surprise toward the door : 

“Waldau, my dear fellow! Do I see aright ?” ex- 
glaimed Poring, springing toward the new-comer, fol- 


IDYLS. 


153 


lowed by Annie, whose face expressed her delight at 
seeing an old Berlin acquaintance. 

Herr Waldau heartily shook the lieutenant’s hand 
and kissed the one Annie extended to him. 

“ I know how surprised you must be to have me drop 
in on you so unexpectedly,” he said. “It was very 
warm in Berlin, so I concluded to flee to the moun- 
tains ; and, remembering that I had a good friend 
somewhere in the neighborhood of the Gothard Tunnel, 
I packed my travelling-bag and sketching parapher- 
nalia — and here I am ! That civilization has pene- 
trated even to this remote spot is proved by that 
classic urn ” — pointing smilingly at the punch-bowl on 
the table — “ and those little gold and silver heads 
peeping from yonder chest bear a close resemblance 
to the sirens of Rheims and Epernay !” 

Boring laughingly responded : 

“ You will confer a favor on us, my dear Waldau, by 
testing more closely the resemblance between these 
golden heads to the sirens you are familiar with. Come, 
take a seat and tell us how you found us, and how are 
all our friends at home ? First, let me introduce you 
to our worthy host ; Pastor Stolze, Frau Stolze — my 
friend, Herr Waldau, artist. And this, my dear Eli- 
mar,” added the lieutenant, turning toward the young 
Italian, and laying his hand on his shoulder, “ is a little 
friend of mine to whom I owe my life — a brave lad in 
the employ of the tunnel company — Francisco Pe- 
dretti.” 

Waldau shook hands with the pastor and Frau 
Stolze, then turned to greet Francisco. He started 
when his eyes fell on the dusky boy face. Where 
had he seen those delicate features, those sparkling 
eyes ? 

“ I knew you would be surprised,” observed Boring, 


154 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


who had noticed the artist’s perplexed expression. “ The 
likeness is remarkable, isn’t it ? If Francisco were to 
don feminine garments, not even her intimate acquaint- 
ances could tell him from Lucia von Hackert. It was 
this resemblance that first attracted me to him. But, 
sit down — sit down, my dear fellow, and fill your 
glass !” 

In turning to obey the hospitable command of his 
friend, Waldau missed seeing the slight change which 
passed over Francisco’s face at mention of Lucia von 
Hackert’s name. He became pale, then the dusky 
cheeks flushed so deeply that he bent his head low over 
his glass to hide his face. But there were no eyes for 
him. The visitor had awakened a hundred recollec- 
tions of home. Annie was eager to hear all that Wal- 
dau had to tell. Twenty questions in a breath. How 
was dear Aunt Therese ? Was uncle still so very, very 
angry? Were the vases in the drawing-room still 
filled with the same flowers ? Did the canary still hang 
in the bow- window ? Was Frau Von Hilgersdorf going 
to spend the summer in Berlin ? How was Lucia von 
Hackert? Baron Von Menken ? Assessor Pringsberg ? 
“ Still-Life ” Eugene ? And all the rest ? 

Here the pastor, who had been waiting his chance, 
adroitly managed to get in a question concerning Bis- 
marck’s health ; then the lieutenant wanted to know 
how Waldau found out where they lived, and where 
he, Elimar, had left his luggage. 

“ My luggage ?” repeated Waldau. “ If a portman- 
teau, a paint-box and a portable easel can be called so, 
it is down at the inn where I expect to sleep to-night. 
I inquired for you up at Goeschenen, and was told you 
had come down here to see your wife. I dare say the 
counselor will follow.” 

“ Oh, you wicked fellow !” interrupted Annie, spring- 


IDYLS. 


155 


ing to her feet, and with simulated anger threatening 
the speaker with her uplifted hand. “ You have spoiled 
all my plans. Lucia and I had arranged a plot to lure 
uncle to this place, and we didn’t want him or Hans to 
know anything about our plan for a reconciliation. It 
is too bad of you !” 

Waldau was truly sorry, and begged to be forgiven, 
while Boring laughed heartily and said : 

“ There, Waldau, you see that the best of women 
cannot be trusted ! We are married only a few 
weeks, and here she is plotting in secret against me.” 
He became more serious as he continued ; “ I con- 
fess, my dear Annie, that I should prefer to have 
your uncle come to see us of his own accord. That / 
am willing to be on friendly terms with him he knows 
very well. But your plan, although it was made with 
the best intention, will lead him to think that I am 
forced to seek a reconciliation to — I hardly know how 
to express myself, so I will merely say that I am glad 
your plan miscarried.” 

The pastor and his wife had discreetly retired from 
the arbor when Boring began to speak, and were now 
promenading in the garden. 

Boring was sorry he had spoken so harshly when he 
saw the grieved expression on his little wife’s face. He 
rose hastily and pressed a kiss, on her brow. 

“ That is right,” commended Waldau. “ You should 
never be angry at a well-intended act. Besides, you 
are at liberty to avoid a meeting with Breyfuss — which 
I should not advise, however. Perhaps you are not 
aware that Fraulein Von Hackertand Frau Von Sporken 
are traveling with the counselor ?” he added carelessly, 
though a faint flush tinged his cheeks as he mentioned 
Lucia’s name. 

“ Ah, Lucia here ?” ejaculated Boring in a significant 


156 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


tone. He began to understand what had brought Wal- 
dau to the Alps in search of fresh air. 

“ Lucia here ?” softly repeated another voice— so softly 
that it was merely a breath. 

“ What is the matter, Francisco ? Are you ill ?” asked 
Doring, as the lad leaned back, pale and trembling in 
his chair. 




CHAPTER XIV. 

■ # 

THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf had not yet departed on her 
journey, although her trunks had been packed for sev- 
eral days. The cause of this delay was a peculiar one. 
The day after her “ farewell tea,” the widow had re- 
ceived the following mysterious letter : 

“Gracious Lady: You will greatly oblige one with whom 
yon are acquainted, but who must remain for a time unknown to 
you, if you will give him a few minutes of your time and attention. 
I should not venture to intrude on the secrets of your heart, were 
I not forced by stern duty to do so. Need I tell you that my 
sympathy for you, when I read that scandalous newspaper article, 
was as deep as is my contempt for its author? By chance I learned 
that Herr Rahlou, whom every one believes to be the author of 
the scandal, and who, doubtless, is a conscienceless reporter, was 
not the originator. The vile thought was born in the brain of a 
young girl, one who calls herself in public your friend, but who is 
in secret your bitterest enemy — because she is jealous of you. 

This girl, who is in love with the E of that infamous romance, 

and whose modest reserve is but a mask to hide her evil heart, is 
— do not start, gracious lady — a dangerous adventuress! There 
is, in all circles of society, more or less wrong-doing, and it is 
doubly hard to right a wrong, when an exposure would compro- 
mise an entire class. In this case, however, we must not, dare 
not, stop to consider the consequences. As attorney for a party 
who has been cheated by that girl out of a considerable fortune, 
I am forced to exert all my energies to accomplish my duty. 




158 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Through a remarkable concatenation of circumstances — which 
one might term a lucky chance were it not a ruling of Nemesis — 
you are, gracious lady, placed in a position to aid me in unmask- 
ing this female swindler. Will you help me ? Do you wish to 
avenge the terrible insult which has been heaped on you ? I 
wait your reply to the pseudonym I have adopted to write to you. 

, “Brutus Cassius.” 

The writer of this epistle had not miscalculated its 
effect on the fair widow. He was evidently familiar 
with the feminine heart, and knew the capabilities of a 
passionate and jealous nature. 

At any other time Frau Von Hilgersdorf would have 
tossed such an epistle into the waste-paper basket. But 
not now ! A great change had taken place in the 
young widow when she found that Elimar Waldau 
would never return her insane passion. Her own heart 
told her that he must love some one else, and that that 
some one was Lucia von Hackert she felt confident. 
Oh, how she hated her more fortunate rival ! The 
letter from “ Brutus Cassius ” came upon her like a 
thunderbolt ; she read and reread it, and each time be- 
came more convinced that it was not intended as a 
vulgar jest, that there was a vein of truth in the lines. 
Possibly the writer’s assertions were a trifle exagger- 
ated ; but if only a portion of what he wrote were true, 
then was her hated rival destroyed forever ! 

A single spark of evil is easily fanned into a flame. 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf remembered that Lucia’s manner 
toward her of late was rather reserved. Her feverish 
brain fancied a hundred little doubts and suspicions. 
Did not the letter accuse Lucia of being an adventuress 
— a swindler? At first Frau Von Hilgersdorf could not 
bring herself to believe this assertion, it was too im- 
probable — nay, impossible ! And yet, had not Colonel 
Von Hackert died under rather suspicious circum- 
stances ? Was not that burglary, the night the colonel 
died, another singular affair ? Ah, the sly little Lucia ! 


THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 


159 


What a clever schemer dwelt in that modest little 
form ! 

For two days Frau Von Hilg-ersdorf hesitated to 
answer the anonymous letter. On the third she rang- 
for her maid, to whom she said : 

“We are are not going- away just yet, Lisca. The 
trunks can remain as they are. Bring me my mantle.” 
And the fair widow herself carried a carefully sealed 
letter to the nearest letter-box. It was addres.sed to : 


Brutus CassiuSy 


To be called /or. 


Oeneral Post-Office. 


Inside there were only three words ; 

“ I await you.” 

The following morning Lisca brought her mistress a 
card. 

“ Giulio Cadama ” was a familiar name ; but the 
words, “ Brutus Cassius,” in pencil Underneath, made 
the widow turn pale for an instant. 

Cadama entered the room, clothed as usual in black, 
but a half-blown rose to-day gave a touch of color to 
his somber costume. He bowed deferentially, and 
said : 

“ I trust you will pardon the mysterious method I 
employed to obtain permission to broach a subject of 
great importance to both of us. The affair is of such 
weight signora, that I wanted to be quite certain of 
your co-operation before I acknowledged that ‘ Brutus 
Cassius ' and your Italian teacher are one. Before I 


160 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


speak, I must beg that, in case you refuse to aid me, 
you will not for one year tell any one of my plans ? 
Your promise will be sufficient, signora” 

“ I promise,” in a firm voice responded the widow. 
Then summoning her maid, she bade her bring some 
wine, and told her to admit no other visitors. 

The little Hungarian maid nodded her coquettish 
head understandingly, and vanished to obey the order. 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf opened the doors leading to the 
adjoining rooms, in order to prevent eavesdropping at 
the keyholes, then seated herself opposite her visitor. 

“ I am ready to hear your disclosure, signor” she said 
with affected unconcern, sipping her wine. 

Signor Cadama drew up his long, lean body, and 
resting his chin on his hand began : 

“ I shall try to be as brief as possible, signora. Two 
years ago I, who must no longer conceal from you that 
I am one of the most sought-after avvocates in Rome, 
was visited at my office by a lad who wished me to ac- 
company him to a house in an obscure part of the city, 
where his mother, a poor deserted creature, lay dying. 
She had sent for me to make a confession. I am a 
native of the Eternal City, signora, and have had ample 
opportunity to become thoroughly acquainted with 
many of its secrets, Rome is no more the city of the 
Romans, but an international rendezvous for all nations, 
and because wanderers from all points of the compass 
congregate on the seven hills by the Tiber, it is natural 
that much misery is to be found there. The traveler 
who visits the city merely to view the points of in- 
terest sees nothing of its wretchedness, but he who, 
like myself, is forced to look upon the reverse side of 
the glittering exterior, and who is familiar with the 
terrible suffering and want hidden amid the picturesque 
confusion of ancient buildings, is familiar with it all. 



**AN INTEREyTlNCi COINCIDENCE 


SCKELY,” LUCIA SAYS.— Nee Vaije U(» 





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THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 


IGl 


“ My experience taught me that I was right in guess- 
ing that a mystery was to be unraveled in that poverty- 
stricken mansard. It was a wretched hole to which 
the weeping lad conducted me. An abode, signor^ in 
which you would not have let your dogs live. So 
small, so low, there was hardly room to turn or stand 
upright. A broken table, a footstool and a bundle of 
straw scattered on the stone floor completed the fur- 
nishing. A close, evil-smelling atmosphere greeted 
me when I entered the pen. I hastily opened the 
narrow window, for even the malaria-laden air of 
the filthy street was better than the atmosphere of the 
close room. Covered with rags and suffering with the 
pains of death, the woman lay on her bed of straw. 
From a sallow, attenuated face gleamed two large 
black eyes, which must once have glowed with splendid 
beauty ; but which now glittered with the light of 
fever. Her trembling hands drew me down to her 
miserable couch. I had to bend my ear close to her 
lips to hear the almost unintelligible whisper. That 
which the dying woman revealed to me was certainly 
enough to make me forget the noisome surroundings. 

“ Carmella Boccani-^the name of the woman — had 
had a full share of romance and adventure. When a 
child she had tended goats on the campagna ; had 
played on the banks of the Tiber ; had woven baskets 
of rushes, which she filled with flowers, and which her 
father, a worthy goatherd, sold in the caf^s along the 
Corso. From the seclusion of the campagna pastures 
a young German artist lifted the budding beauty. The 
artist, whose name to-day is among the most dis- 
tinguished of his craft, had searched long and vainly 
among the crowds on the Via Sistina for a model for a 
sword-dancer. Carmella was just what he wanted. An 
agreement was soon made, the sittings began, and six 


162 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


months later the sword-dancer, with Carmella’s face 
and form, enchanted the visitors at the Vienna Art 
Exhibition. 

“ In that time Carmella had learned much. She had 
become conscious of her beauty and of its power over 
our sex. When she quitted the artist’s studio after the 
last posing-, she had ceased to be the simple little goat- 
tender and had become a dangerous enchantress. 

“Carmella Boccani,” continued the advocate, after a 
brief pause, “ enjoyed a short season of happiness and 
prosperity, during which she was the most celebrated 
model in Rome. Then she fell in love a fellow-model, 
a rollicking youth with classic form and features, and 
became his wife. Their marriage was solemnized in 
a little chapel of the San Maria Maggiore church, and 
was followed by a feast in one of the trattoria in the 
Trastevere, to which all the models in Rome were in- 
vited. It was a merry evening — perhaps the last 
merry evening of poor Carmella’s eventful life ; for 
already the next day began the sorrows of an ill- 
matched union. The handsome Nicolo proved an ill- 
natured brute, and beat his little wife so cruelly that 
she had no more pleasure in living. There was noth- 
ing more to be made by posing, for the war had robbed 
the artists of all desire to work. But neither Nicolo 
nor Carmella had learned to do anything but pose as 
models. They went to Naples, hoping to find employ- 
ment there, but were disappointed. Then Nicolo’s 
treatment of his wife became so brutal she summoned 
her courage and fled from him. At that time all Italy 
was a gigantic camp. In every portion of my blessed 
land weapons clanked aggressively ; and the furies of war 
rejoiced over the hecatombs offered to them. Revolu- 
tion ruled the hour. Austria, France and Savoy battled 
on the shores of the Adriatic. It was a time of tur- 


THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 


163 


moil, and matched the despairing mood of the woman 
who had fled from her natural protector to find peace 
in the warring world. Carmella sought refuge with 
Garibaldi’s chasseurs. Many of those who wore the red 
blouse had, in better days, thrown coin into the lap of the 
pretty model of the Scala di Spagne ; and all of those 
sons of freedom welcomed Carmella to their ranks. 

“ ‘ La bella Carmella ' was not an unattractive picture 
in her becoming vivandilre costume, flame-colored 
bodice and skirt, below which peeped dainty high boots. 
She marched with the Alpine heroes as long as she was 
able, which was not long. In a little village in lower 
Ticino a little daughter was born to Carmella. From 
the very first hour the tiny bit of humanity opened its 
eyes on the world it had a hard time of it. Her father 
was somewhere on the blue Mediterranean, and her 
mother v as unfortuate in having this living burden 
added to her cares. What should she do with the little 
puling creature, whose coal-black eyes were a constant 
reminder of the cruel beatings she had endured from 
its father ? A lucky chance, perhaps, prevented Car- 
mella from resorting to an unwomanly act. In 
the cottage of the vine- dresser, who had charitably 
sheltered Carmella in her hour of need, lodged 
two other strangers, an artist from Vienna and a Prus- 
sian officer, who was stationed on military duty near 
the seat of war. To these two men the vine-dresser 
related Carmella’s situation. They responded with a 
liberal gift of money, the artist giving all the more 
cheerfully when he recognized in the unfortunate 
woman his model for the sword-dancer. The artist’s 
name, signorina, you will find on the back of the little 
bivouac sketch in your salon. The Prussian officer in 
the vine-dresser’s cottage was Herr Von Hilgersdorf, 
your deceased husband.” 


164 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Frau Von Hilgersdorf Avas unable to conceal a slight 
start ; but she made no reply, and Cadama con- 
tinued : 

“ Near the vine-dresser’s cottage was a handsome 
villa occupied by a wealthy German, a Baron Von 
Hackert-Selchern, who was living here in great retire- 
ment with his invalid wife. The only person with whom 
Baron Von Hackert held any communication was Herr 
Von Hilgersdorf, who was an old acquaintance, and 
who likely told the baron about the event which had 
happened at the cottage. One evening Herr Von 
Hilgersdorf had a long interview with Carmella, after 
which he repaired to the vine-dresser, and in a sorrow- 
ful tone told him a doctor was coming to see the new- 
born child which was very ill. Instead of a doctor, 
however, Baron Von Hackert came the next day and 
brought a large basket, filled with what appeared to be 
clothing. He had brought — so he told the vine-dresser 
— some linen for the poor mother and her sick baby. 
His own wife expected soon to be in a similar condition, 
and he felt it his duty to help a suffering fellow-Chris- 
tian. The baron then had an interview with Carmella, 
after which he hastily and with a pale face quitted the 
cottage, carrying the covered basket on his arm. 

The vine-dresser was loud in his praise of the dis- 
tinguished German’s generosity, and lamented his own 
inability to do more for the sick woman. Hilgersdorf 
cautioned the worthy man not to disturb the invalid, as 
the least excitement would only hasten the death of her 
weakly infant. That same evening a loud cry from 
Carmella summoned the inmates of the cottage to her 
room, where they found the poor woman Aveeping over 
the cold body of her dead child. I had forgotten to 
mention, signora^ that Carmella was an excellent actress. 
The folloAving morning news came of the birth of ^ 


THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 


165 


little daughter at the villa. The child was strong and 
hearty, but its birth cost the mother her life. 

“ According to the last wishes of the baron’s wife she 
was buried in the village graveyard, close by the side 
of the little mound which covered Carmella Boccani’s 
baby. Carmella went to the villa as nurse for the 
baron’s motherless little daughter for a few weeks until 
the nurse, who had been sent from Germany, arrived. 
Shortly after the arrival of the German nurse, the 
baron took his departure, first giving Carmella many 
valuable presents. The vine-dresser and his wife stood 
by the roadside to see the baron’s carriage pass, and to 
admire the baby which, wrapped in shawls and veils, 
lay in the nurse’s arms. The vine-dresser could not 
say enough about the kindness of the baron, who had 
left a large sum of money to pay the gravedigger for 
attending to the grave of the baroness and that of 
Carmella’s baby. 

“ My story might conclude here, signora, did I not 
think you would care to hear more about Carmella. 
After Baron Von Hackert’s departure, it was said that 
Herr Von Hilgersdorf — ” at this point Cadama 
slightly elevated his eyebrows — “ interested himself for 
a time in the poor woman. Then Carmella went back 
to her regiment until the peace of Villefranca con- 
cluded the war in upper Italy, when she returned to 
her brutal husband. In due time she bore him a son, 
a handsome youth whom she named Francisco, after 
her father. 

“ Nicolo had ceased possing for artists and had be- 
come a coral fisher, to which trade he at last fell a 
victim. His body was cast ashore one morning after a 
fearful storm. In one hand he clutched a superb 
branch of rose coral, in the other the amulet which he 
had torn from his neck in his death struggles, nnd 


166 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


which had failed to protect him from the anger of the 
sea. 

“ Thus Carmella found herself once more alone in 
the world. The war having broken out anew, she left 
her boy with a neighbor, and once more joined Gari- 
baldi’s troops. Singularly enough, in the midst of the 
tumult of war, she was overpowered by a desire to see 
her first-born, whom we suppose lay sleeping in the 
ehurchyard of the little village at the foot of the Alps. 
She eould not suppress the strange yearning, so she 
bade her comrades farewell, and wandered northward, 
inquiring at every camp, every barracks for an officer 
named Hilgersdorf. Whether or not she found him 
the poor creature had not enough breath left to tell 
me. From her last gasped words, I could learn only 
that she had wandered back to Rome, where she had 
had a severe struggle to keep starvation from her door. 
That, signora, is the history of ‘ la bclla Carmella 1' ” 

The signor bowed lightly in concluding, and moist- 
ened his lips with a few drops of Tokay. 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf was silent for several moments. 
She leaned back and toyed idly with the silken tassels 
which ornamented her chair. 

“Your story is very interesting, signor," she said, at 
length, “but there are a few gaps that need to be filled. 
Suppose we accept that Lucia is the child of Carmella 
Boccani, and that she was exchanged for Colonel Von 
Hackert’s still-born daughter. Might not the colonel 
have adopted her, and thus have made her his legal 
heir ?’’ 

Cadama smiled. 

“ The colonel did not adopt the child for a very good 
reason, signora," he returned. “ Such an act would 
have proclaimed to the world that his daughter was the 
child of a vagrant wanderer, born on a straw-pallet. 


THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 


167 


You are sufficiently acquainted with the world’s malev- 
olence, signora^ to know what value is placed on ‘ blue- 
blood.’ Society would never cease to comment and 
gossip, and father and daughter would have had to en- 
dure many disagreeable hints and reminders of the fair 
girl’s lowly origin. You know what a proud man the 
colonel was. 1 don’t doubt that he thought often of 
adopting the girl, biit he had neglected the important 
act at the proper time — just after he had taken the in- 
fant from its mother. Later, he could not have done it 
without compromising both himself and Lucia. Besides, 
no one but Carmella and Von Hilgersdorf knew of the 
secret exchange of infants. The former could not have 
proved that Lucia was her child, as there had been no 
witnesses of the exchange, and it is not likely that Von 
Hilgersdorf would ever mention the fact, as, according 
to Prussian law, an exchange of that sort is a punish- 
able crime, and he had been a willing assistant. And 
then, was not your husband an intimate friend of 
Colonel Hackert’s ?” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf shook her head in negation. 

“ He was once,” she said, “ but in his last years I 
think my husband was anything but friendly toward 
the colonel.” 

Again the Italian smiled meaningly. 

“ I fancy I can guess the cause of your husband’s 
enmity, signora” he responded. “ Hackert evidently 
was familiar with some questionable episode in the 
general’s past — I trust you will pardon my plain 
speaking, signora — ” 

“I beg you not to conceal anything from me,” inter- 
posed the widow, waving her hand. “ I consider it 
necessary that I should know everything in order that 
we may fully understand each other. You are prob- 
ably aware that I was little more than a child when I 


168 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


became the general’s wife. His past life is unknown to 
me. But tell me first : Does Lucia know the secret of 
her birth ?” 

“ I think I may safely say she does. She is what one 
may truthfully call a ‘ swindler.’ She has the audacity 
to wear a bold front in society ; to live sumptuously on 
money which belongs to the legal heir. Are not you 
convinced that her nature is utterly depraved ?” he 
asked in a meaning tone. “ I know very well that your 
delicate feelings prompt you to take no notice of that 
scandalous article in the newspaper ; but I believe all 
Berlin would applaud were you to help me to rid society 
of a character at once so dangerous and so Undesira- 
ble.” 

An imperceptible smile of triumph crossed Cadama’s 
thin lips when he saw how the little hand, resting on 
the arm of the chair, trembled with excitement : 

“Almost I am tempted to believe,” he resumed, 
“ that you still think Lucia incapable of such infamous 
behavior toward you. It is difficult to believe, I con- 
fess — and yet, I have the proof here.” He took a note 
from his letter-case. “ Let me read what Dr. Rahlou 
writes ; ‘ I have the honor to assure you that the first 
hint of the article, “ What Love Will Do,” originated in 
the brain of Miss Von Hackert-Selchern, and not in 
my own — ’ See for yourself, signora. Let Rahlou’s 
words convince you.” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf cast only a fleeting glance at 
the signature to the note — she desired no further 
proof. 

A cruel expression had settled around her beautiful 
mouth when she inquired : 

“You are Herr Von Hackert’s attorney, I believe ?” 

“Yes, signora. I am trying to secure for the young 
man the fortune which is illegally held by Carmella 


THE NEW CONFEDERATES. 


169 


Boccani’s daughter. The colonel’s will bequeaths 
everything — save a few insignificant legacies — to his 
daughter. His daughter lies beside her mother in the 
little churchyard at Ticino ; therefore the will is con- 
testable. At the time he made the will Colonel Von 
Hackert had no daughter.” 

“ Why don’t you appeal directly to the courts !” sud- 
denly queried Frau Von Hilgersdorf. 

“ Simply because Carmella and General Von Hilgers- 
dorf, the only persons who could assist me as witnesses, 
are in their graves.” 

“ Do you think my husband left among his private 
papers any documents relating to the exchange of in- 
fants ?” asked the widow, fixing a sharp glance on the 
attorney’s face. 

Cadama hesitated a moment before replying. He 
adjusted his cravat, passed his fingers around his neck 
as if his collar annoyed him, then said : 

“ No, signora, I don’t think he did.” 

“ Then in what way do you expect me to help you, 
if not in that ?” abruptly demanded Frau Von Hilgers- 
dorf. 

Again the wily Italian hesitated before answering. 

“ If no proofs are at hand, we must find a way to get 
some !” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf started. From the first she 
had suspected that the Italian intended some rascality. 
Before she could reply, however, he added : 

“ Allow me to explain, signora. It is quite certain 
that Lucia is not the daughter of Colonel Von Hackert 
and his wife. This much conceded, then she certainly 
has no right to hold the fortune which belongs legally 
to my client. Unfortunately, the only witnesses who 
could aid me in establishing my case are dead. We 
are, therefore, powerless to right a great wrong. Per 


170 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


bacco, I don’t think one ought to hesitate to aid justice ! 
Your conscience, signora^ is more delicate than mine. 
I have had too much to do with all sorts of criminals. I 
shall not tell you all that I propose to do. I ask you only 
to lend me some of your husband’s writings — something 
of no importance whatever — and I promise you that a 
document shall be forthcoming which will effectually 
prevent Lucia Boccani from further masquerading as a 
scion of the noble race of Hackert-Selchern !” 

The widow had risen to her feet. Her face was very 
pale ; her lips were pressed closely together ; her frame 
trembled. But the cruel expression around her mouth 
was more strongly marked, and between her arched 
brows lay a fine line that told of an inflexible determi- 
nation. 

“You are a finished diplomat. Signor Cadama,” she 
said curtly. “ I am afraid I should not have consented 
to aid you had you been more explicit. As it is, Brutus 
Cassius has not applied to me in vain ! Come with me, 
we will take a look at my deceased husband’s papers.’’ 
******* 

When Signor Cadama, a short time afterward, quitted 
the widow’s residence, he stopped on the staircase to 
brush the large drops of perspiration from his fore- 
head. His lips twitched convulsively as he muttered 
in a tone that sounded like the hissing of a snake ; 

“ Almost at the goal ! They have all gone into the 
net — the web of lies I spun from a hundred threads. 
All of them, the student, the journalist, the widow, and 
my little countryman on the St. Gothard, all — all ! And 
as for you, my haughty Lucia, my star-eyed beauty, I 
don’t think you will reject the man who alone can save 
your fortune and the honor of your second father.’’ 



CHAPTER XV. 

NO ! 

“This is beautiful, very beautiful, indeed [’’exclaimed 
Counselor. Dreyfuss. “Just look there, Waldau — and 
there ! That is the Mythenstein, and that beyond it 
the Uri-Rothstock.” 

Waldau turned his glass toward the pyramids of rock 
which raised themselves from the level of the shim- 
mering lake, while the counselor continued enthusias- 
tically : 

“ Beautiful ! Beautiful ! This delicious mountain 
perfume and the fresh breeze from the water fill one 
with the most delightful sensations, and almost make 
one forget the coffee which has been waiting to be 
drunk for ten minutes or more. There, now, put aside 
your ballet-scrutinizer, my dear Waldau, or else turn it 
in yon direction, and tell me if you can see anything of 
the women-folk ? I fancied I caught a glimpse of my 
wife’s red cap-ribbons.” 

Dreyfuss and the artist stepped back from the lattice 
which inclosed the hotel garden. At the same moment 
the “ women-folk ” appeared from behind some shrub- 
bery, Frau Therese, her round face beaming with 

[•71] 



172 


INVISIBLE HANDS, 


health, the inevitable knitting-bag on her arm, Lucia 
Von Hackert and Frau Von Sporken. 

Waldau, who, after sketching a few days on the St. 
Gothard, had met the counselor’vS party here — not alto- 
gether by chance — the day before, walked quickly 
toward the ladies. 

“ ‘ HiiWn sich am Abend die Berge in Dunst, 

Ldcheltam Morgen die Sonne mit Gunst,' " 

he quoted, when he came up with them. “ Didn’t I tell 
you yesterday evening that to-day would be fine ? The 
thunder-storm you predicted, Fraulein Lucia, has not 
come to pass, so we may, after all, carry out our plans 
for the sail.” 

“ I am very glad, for I know I shall enjoy it,” returned 
Lucia. “ I want to become acquainted with the entire 
shore of this beautiful lake, with all of those glorious 
peaks, with Fltielen and Tellsplatte, Trieb and the 
Riitliwiese — ” 

“ Come ! Come ! ” here interposed the counselor. “ Let 
us finish the discussion over our coffee. The lank 
Ganymede under your tent is in despair because he 
has been forced, for the last fifteen minutes, to defend 
the honey against the greedy onslaughts of two flies. 
Your arm, Therese.” * 

Breakfast had been served under a little canvas 
baldachin. It was a charming nook. The view of 
lake and mountain was unobstructed. The water 
glittered like silver — a deep green near the hither 
shore, darker, almost black on the further side, where 
the mountains were reflected as in a mirror. 

The conversation was merry and interspersed with 
laughter. Waldau had to relate how he came to decide 
so suddenly on a sketching tour among the Swiss 
mountains, and where he had been sojourning until 


no! 


173 


now. The last question was asked by Fraulein Von 
Hackertl who had already heard of his visit to Rosen- 
holz from Annie Doring ; and who sought, with true 
feminine diplomacy, to turn the conversation on the “ dis- 
inherited one.” 

Waldau thereupon frankly told of his visit to the 
Dorings, and succeeded in winning from Herr Dreyfuss 
many a softly muttered “ Incredible !” and from Frau 
Therese several teardrops. 

The counselor glanced stealthily around the coffee- 
urn toward his spouse ; the tears which rolled slowly 
over her plump cheeks and lost themselves in the lace 
ruff about her neck angered him. He feared a more 
violent exhibition of her feelings, and hastened to 
change the subject. 

“ The boat has been ordered for ten o’clock,” he said, 
looking at his watch. “ It is time to get ready. We 
will row first to Trieb, and walk from there toward the 
Seelisberg and the Riitli. The wine over yonder is 
said to be particularly good, which certainly is an 
attraction !” 

They rose to fetch wraps and rugs from the hotel. 
At the entrance the porter handed a telegram to the 
counselor, who tore it hastily open, read it, then thrust 
it into his pocket. 

“Nothing unpleasant, I hope?” observed Frau 
Therese, who had a perfect horror of everything per- 
taining to the electric wire, which she said was over- 
hasty and malign. 

“ Certainly not,” replied her husband, bustling for- 
ward, “ only a business message from Vienna.” 

While in his room the counselor was suddenly seized 
with a most torturing toothache. It was very unfor- 
tunate, very, and very inopportune, but he knew that if 
he exposed himself to the cool air on the lake, the pain 


174 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


would become intolerable ! He begged, therefore, that 
the little party would go without him. Waldau was 
perfectly familiar with all the points of interest, and 
would prove an excellent guide and escort. 

He was excused of course, but amid sincerest regret 
and sympathy. Frau Therese insisted on stopping 
with him, to prepare hot camomile compresses for the 
aching molar, but the suiferer would not hear of such 
self-sacrifice. The smell of camomile made him ill ; 
besides, his tooth would likely cease aching if he re- 
mained perfectly quiet in his room. 

So the little party went without him, and embarked 
in the boat which was waiting for them. Herr Drey- 
fuss, his handkerchief to his face, waved a farewell 
from the balcony of the hotel, then the boat pushed 
off and trailed a silvery wake through the rippling 
waves. 

As the distance lengthened between the shore and 
the receding boat, the counselor’s tooth seemed to grow 
less' troublesome. At all events, he whistled cheerily 
as he reentered the hotel, and sought the porter, who 
was seated in front of his key-rack, like Cerberus at the 
entrance to Hades. 

“ At what hour does the steamer arrive from Fluelen ?” 
asked Herr Dreyfuss. 

“At eleven, sometimes half-past, if it is very windy 
and the waves are high,” was the reply. 

“ Thanks. Be good enough to see that there is 
served in my room promptly at eleven, a lunch for two, 
a bottle of Madeira, and one of Veuve-Cliquot.” 

Cerberus bowed a deferential assent, less to the 
person of the one who gave the order than to the order 
itself. 

The counselor went into the garden and threw him- 
self into a rocking-chair that stood close to the lattice. 


175 


NO ! 

From here he had a clear view of the entire lake. 
Half-way up the stretch of water was a dark object 
above which hung- a light-gray cloud. It was the 
steamer. At precisely eleven o’clock the counselor 
stood waiting on the landing. About him crowded 
the fisher-lads, with rolled up trousers, their dirty 
fingers grasping nosegays of violets, and baskets 
containing wood-carvings. The boatmen stood along- 
side their boats, waiting to land the passengers from 
the steamer. Carriers in their blue-striped blouses, and 
hotel porters in their hideous international uniforms 
bustled about on the landing. A number of guests 
from the hotels were seated on the iron benches along 
the shore. Shaded by a red umbrella, a youthful artist 
was sketching the scene. He was smiling with satis- 
faction, for he had descried among the throng a long- 
legged Briton who, with his mackintosh and plaid and 
rimless hat, offered a striking central point for his pic- 
ture. 

The steamer puffed nearer, the anchor rattled into 
the waves, sending foam in all directions. The boats 
shot out from the shore ; the steamer’s ladder was 
lowered, and a stream of passengers poured over the 
side. The band on deck played a lively march ; and, 
mingling with the rather discordant sound, was the 
buzz of a hundred voices ; the cries of luggage carriers 
and porters ; and the shrill calls from the captain’s 
whistle. 

“ Allow me,” repeated the counselor, as he shoved 
unceremoniously to the right and left the persons who 
barred his passage. The next instant he lifted from 
the boat, which had just landed, a slight, shawl-en- 
veloped woman, pressed her to his breast, and, in 
presence of all the world, kissed her on lips, cheeks 
and brow ! 


176 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ All alone, my little Annie ? My little runaway !” he 
exclaimed jestingly, as he tucked her under his arm, 
and marched her toward the hotel. “ Alone, and 
without the permission of your lord and master ? Did 
you really want to see old grimbeard so badly ? Do you 
really love old uncle a little bit after all ! Even if he 
was a little angry because his kitten showed her 
sharp claws ! Just wait, you madcap ! I have a whole 
series of lectures for you, in petto ! Humph, incredible ! 
She goes off without a by-your-leave, and the old uncle 
may see how he gets his bird back again !” 

“ Wasn’t the old uncle to blame for the flight of his 
bird ?” queried Annie, glancing roguishly at the coun- 
selor’s face, which was beaming with satisfaction. 

“We shall see about that, my dear, and the punish- 
ment shall be accordingly. In any case, I have you 
fast enough now, and your husband must come him- 
self and fetch you if he wants you back !” 

“ But, my dear uncle,’’ interposed Annie, “ Hans is 
coming to Rosenholz on Sunday, and if I am not there 
to greet him he will be inconsolable.” 

“ If the mountain won’t come to the prophet, Mo- 
hammed must journey to the mountain,” laughingly 
responded her uncle. “ Doring is an obstinate fellow, 
and so am I. We shall see which of us has the harder 
head. Your aunt and Lucia and old Sporken have 
rowed over to the Riitli, so we shall have time for a 
good long chat. You naughty child ! I had made up 
my mind to give you a good scolding, and now that you 
are here I don’t know how to begin.” 

“ Is it necessary, uncle ? Is not this the first and 
only time I have had to beg your pardon? You have 
no idea how good and obedient I mean to be, now that 
you aren’t angry at Hans any more — ” 

“ Ho, ho ! not so fast, my dear,” he interrupted. “ I 


177 


NO ! 

haven’t said I wasn’t angry at Hans. On the contrary, 
I have a fine large crow to pick with Hans, I can tell 
you !” 

They were now seated at the lunch table. Annie 
had not changed in the least. She was the same clear- 
headed sensible little woman. Her eyes were brighter 
— they shone with a great happiness. And just now 
there was a mischievous smile around the red lips 
which rarely opened to harmless jesting. 

“ Oh, my dear uncle !” she exclaimed feelingly, “ I 
can’t tell you how happy I am at thought of you and 
Hans becoming reconciled. I am so happy with my 
dear husband that I cannot imagine a happier existence. 
There is only one thing wanting, dear uncle — your 
blessing. I could not endure it any longer. I just had 
to come and ask you to forgive me, and to say a good 
word for my poor Hans, who was only an accomplice, 
and not the sole author of the crime we committed against 
you. He would not have consented to let me come had 
he known — much as he admires you, in spite of your 
cruel treatment of him — for he is afraid you might at- 
tribute our advances to mercenary motives, he is so 
very sensitive on that point. So I just came without 
telling him. And there he is, on the Gothard, working 
away with all his might for the good of all mankind, 
while I am sitting comfortably here, working for my 
own selfish end. However,” with an imploring glance 
at her uncle, “ I don’t think the satisfactory result of 
my scheming is so far distant, do you, dear uncle ?” 

But her uncle was obtuse, or pretended to be so. Not 
even the coaxing smile with which she extended to him 
the glass of champagne cleared his serious face. 

“ I don’t see what I have to do with any results — 
satisfactory or otherwise,” he mumbled, draining his 
glass. 


178 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


This was too much ! Annie sprang to her feet, 
seized a lapel of his coat in each hand and vainly- 
trying to shake his huge bulk, cried : 

“You wicked, cruel, horrid uncle! Can I do more 
than prostrate myself at your feet and beg pardon for 
following the dictates of my heart ? What more can 
you want — pray ?” 

The counselor, evidently, was not going to allow 
anything to disturb his gastronomic enjoyment. He 
lifted a turkey- wing to his plate and began to carve it. 

“ I forgave you long ago, my dear Annie,” he ob- 
served. 

^'•Me? Forgave me? What good is that? I am 
Hans ; and Hans and I are one. If you don’t forgive both, 
you don’t forgive either ! Man and wife are one. That 
is what the Bible says, and you can take from it what 
inference you choose, uncle !” 

Her uncle speared a large piece of white meat on his 
fork before replying. 

“You are a regular philosopher in petticoats, my 
dear. But, seriously, can you really want me, an old 
man, to travel to Goeschenen and beg your young hus- 
band not to be angry at me because he ran away with 
my darling child ?” 

“ Certainly not ! At least, not just that, uncle. You 
will not understand me. I want nothing more than a 
mutual advance — ” 

“ Ah !” interrupted the uncle. “ And suppose that I 
think it the young man’s place to come to me ?” 

Annie wrung her hands. 

“Just what Hans says !” she exclaimed in despera- 
tion. “ Oh, but you are a pair of obstinates ! Your 
stubbornness tears to bits my beautifully woven diplo- 
matic-net. I am at the end of my wisdom. I may as 
well journey back whence I came.” 


179 


NO ! 

“Not just yet,” laughingly supplemented the coun- 
selor, gnawing at the turkey-wing. “ That is not to be 
thought of for several weeks at least. Indeed, I may 
make up my mind to keep you months !” 

“ And my husband ?” suggested Annie. 

“ If he wants you very much he will fetch you.” 

Annie paused a moment ; she had an idea. 

“Very well,” she said at length, “ I ’ll stop with you 
as long as I can. One favor I demand in return — an 
equivalent, so to speak. Do you consent ?” 

“ Let us hear the ‘ equivalent,’ and I ’ll consider. I 
don’t altogether trust you, since you defied my authority 
and ran away from me.” 

Annie laughed, then said : 

“ I will tell you what I want. I am to be allowed to 
continue my diplomatic maneuvers without interfer- 
ence from any one ! Are you agreed ?” 

“ Oh, I ’ll agree to anything, provided you do not re- 
quire my personal interest.” 

“ I shall not. Our agreement is settled then, and I 
shall at once begin operations. Excuse me a moment, 
please, I want to do a little correspondence.” 

She stepped to the writing-table, and hastily penned 
several lin^s on a note-sheet, then she rang the bell and 
gave the note to the servant. 

“ Take this to the telegraph office,” she ordered. 
“ Now, my dear uncle,” she continued, resuming her 
seat at the table. “ My day’s word is completed. You 
may fill my glass, and we will drink to my final re- 
sult !” 

The counselor lifted his glass, then suddenly low- 
ered it. 

, “ You have hatched some diabolical plot, I ’ll be 
bound !” he exclaimed suspiciously. “ Come now, 
confess !” 


180 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ With all my heart, since the telegram is already on 
its way. The message was to Engineer Doring and 
read ; ‘ If you want Annie, you must fetch her yourself. 
Dreyfuss, Hotel Adler, Brunnen.’ ” 

For several seconds the counselor remained speechless. 

“ Oh, you rogue ! You 2ccQh-intrigante !” he ex- 
claimed. “ You have cheated me after all ! What a 
Bismarck or a Cavour you would have made ! Who 
in the world taught you to be so artful ?’’ 

Annie’s eyes danced. 

“ Love, dear uncle ; love taught me,” she returned 
merrily. “ You and Hans had to be reconciled, and as 
there was no straightforward way to accomplish it, I 
choose a crooked way ! Now just be patient. Day 
after to-morrow, at the latest, will see Hans here ; then 
will follow reconciliation, harmony, peace ! What will 
you wager on it ?” 

“Nothing, Mrs. Diplomat, you are a great deal too 
clever for me. Humph ! Incredible ! I have been 
tricked, cheated, for the first time in my life, and by a 
bit of a woman ! Well, I suppose I ’ll have to bear it ! 
But I will not let you escape without punishment. 
Come here and kiss me !” 

It is needless to add that Annie submitted to her 
punishment with commendable patience ! 

******** 

Meanwhile the boat containing Herr Waldau and the 
ladies cleft its way through the green waves. Two 
skilled oarsmen sent the little craft flying like an arrow 
across the shimmering surface. Brunnen, with its 
cheerful houses, and the towering mountains beyond it, 
was a charming picture. To the westward stretched 
the verdant Muotta Valley, hemmed in on either side 
by fir-clad mountains, whose snowy summits glittered 
in the sunlight. 


181 


NO ! 

The boat landed at Treib, opposite Brunnen ; and 
the party went ashore, to continue the journey on 
wheels as far as the Sulisberp- thence on foot to the 
Riitli. 

Frau Dreyfuss was already weary. She felt as if she 
were “ bruised from sole to crown.” She had experi- 
enced a slight mal de mer, while in the boat ; and, 
moreover, she was just a trifle uneasy about her suffer- 
ing husband. She upbraided herself for not stopping 
with him to poultice the aching jaw. “ Dreyfuss is 
such a careless person when it concerns his own 
health.” 

Her companions sought in every way to comfort her, 
and Elimar hastened to an inn for some brandy, to 
prevent a probable return of the seasickness. 

The ardent “ water of life ” seemed to cheer and re- 
fresh Frau Therese, and in a few minutes she was able 
to climb to her seat in the carriage beside Frau Von 
Sporken and Lucia. Waldau swung himself to the box 
beside the coachman, who cracked his whip and sang 
out, in his quaint Swiss-French: En avant !" and 
they were off, at a brisk gallop, toward the mountains. 

“ Although the road, with its numerous curves and 
turns, was a charming sight, it was not to be compared 
with the enchanting view which stretched beneath the 
pleasure party when they reached the Sulisberg. From 
the balcony of the hotel, where some refreshment was 
enjoyed, our friends looked down on a scene of magni- 
ficent beauty. Far below lay the glittering lake, the 
sail-boats skimming its shimmering surface, looking 
like tiny swans. All around them were verdant 
forests ; and beyond, the glance was lost in the spurs 
of the Rigi, which were dotted with picturesque villages 
and hamlets. 

Snow white and pale-green, flaming crimson and, 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


182 

dull brown ; black and pale yellow, emerald and azure — 
all these hues were artistically mingled on the earth- 
palette by the hand of nature. 

Frau Therese was the only one of the party who 
found little enjoyment in the view. She was tired 
and held her handkerchief to her eyes because the 
dazzling light blinded her. vShe had a headache, too ; 
and almost became indignant when Waldau ventured 
to suggest that they would better be moving onward 
before the hot mid-day sun made the jaunt more 
wearisome. 

Frau Von Sporken also complained of weariness ; so 
Lucia and Elimar were alone .in their desire to press 
forward to the region celebrated in poetry and le- 
gend. 

“ The distance is not great, Fraulein Lucia,” said 
Waldau, “ and you will be rewarded for your trouble. 
You certainly ought to see the most picturesque region 
of the lake,” he added urgently. 

Lucia was silent for several moments. She glanced 
toward Frau Von Sporken, then said hastily, as if 
ashamed of her hesitation : 

“ I will go, Herr Waldau. Frau Dreyfuss and Aunt 
Sporken can rest here while we take our walk to the 
Riitli. I hope — ” casting a scrutinizing glance at the 
sky — “ those dark clouds over yonder will be gracious 
enough to pass harmlessly over our heads. It would 
not be very pleasant to be caught in a shower.” 

Frau Therese lifted her lorgnette and surveyed the 
cloud-masses in the western sky. It certainly looked 
very threatening. The wind in this region was not to 
be trusted. They would have done better had they 
stopped at Brunnen, with the poor counselor and his 
aching tooth. 

Lucia laughed at the old lady’s apprehensions, and 


183 


NO ! 

Elimar had the barometer to support his assertion that 
the day would continue fine. 

At last Lucia thrQW a shawl over her arm — in case it 
should happen to rain — and the two young people set 
out on their promenade. 

They walked sturdily side by side. The pedestrians 
they met on the road halted to look after and admire 
the handsome pair — the slender, blonde youth and the 
graceful girl, with her sparkling, black eyes. They 
were very silent at first, and yet there was much they 
would have liked to say to each other. 

A secret feeling of alarm had taken hold of Lucia. 
It was the fear to be alone with the man who loved 
her, for that Waldau loved her Lucia knew very well — 
had known it for a long time. Elimar’s heart also beat 
anxiously. When they reached the shade of the forest, 
where the breeze stirred the foliage to gentle murmur- 
ing, a dreamy, poetic sensation took possession of his 
heart. It would have been impossible for him to drop 
into a commonplace conversation — far rather would he 
have given vent to his feelings in song, far rather have 
knelt at her feet and confessed his love. 

There was no sound save the rustling of the trees and 
the songs of the birds, but Elimar fancied he could hear 
a tender murmur from the grass beneath their feet. 
The soft swish of Lucia’s dark gown was music in his 
ears — he felt every one of her graceful movements. 
Her eyes were bent on the ground ; she seemed buried 
in deep thought. Of whom, of what was she thinking ? 
The silence was broken at last by the sound of hilari- 
ous singing. At a turn of the road appeared three 
young men who, with their hats perched jauntily side- 
ways on their heads, their faces flushed and merry, were 
shouting a Volkslied that echoed and re-echoed among 
the rocks. 


184 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


The sound roused Elimar from his dreaming. He 
became suddenly conscious that he was a very uninter- 
esting comrade for a mountain-walk. What must his 
fair companion think of his forgetfulness? Forgetful- 
ness ? Great Heaven ! Could she but know that his 
every thought was filled with her — only her ! 

Waldau forced himself to speak indifferently. He 
talked of one thing and another, and seemed not to 
notice that Lucia became more and more reserved and 
silent. 

When they arrived at the meadow, the conversation 
turned to classical subjects. Lucia drank of the sacred 
waters of the three springs, then looked across at Tell’s 
chapel, which marks the spot where the valiant cross- 
bowman escaped from the bailiff. Suddenly Lucia be- 
came aware that Frau Therese’s prognostications 
concerning the weather were likely to be fulfilled after 
all. The clouds had increased in volume and density, 
the green of the lake had changed to steel-gray, fretted 
with white foam-caps ; and a keen wind blew down from 
the snow-summits. 

“ That means an Alpine storm,” said the young girl, 
pointing to the clouds ; then she smilingly declaimed ; 

“ ‘ Wenn der Sturm 

In dieser Wasserkluft sichjrst verfangen, 

Dann rast er um sick mit des Raubthiers Angst, 

Das an des Gitters Eisenstdbe schldgt ! 

Die Pforte sucht er heulend sick vergebens ; 

Denn ringsum schranken ihn dis Felsen ein, 

Die himmelhoch de7i ganzen Pass verma^iern P ” 

” How faultlessly you quote it, miss !” admiringly ex- 
claimed Waldau. “I, too, have read my Schiller, and 
once could repeat even Tell’s monologue and Atting- 
hausen’s Seid einig, einig, einig !' But you are right ; 
those clouds begin to look portentous. I don’t think 


no! 


185 


the storm will break very soon, but perhaps we had 
better return at once.” 

Lucia assented, and they began to retrace their steps. 

Elimar was no weather prophet. The threatening 
storm burst with a suddenness and fury that startled 
our wanderers. They had not gone far when the heavy 
thunder reverberated through the forest, the trees bent 
beneath the furious gale and large drops of rain rustled 
on the leaves. It became suddenly dark. The blue 
sky overhead became obscured by heavy sulphur-hued 
clouds, which seemed to hang close above the trees ; 
the wind moaned and shrieked ; flash of vivid lightning 
succeeded flash so swiftly that the thimder rumbled 
continuously. 

At the approach of the gale Lucia had taken shelter 
underneath a gigantic beech-tree, and clasped her arms 
around the mossy trunk. The wind tore at her gar- 
ments ; heavy raindrops pelted her face and bare head, 
from which her hat had fallen. 

“ We must not stop here,” said Elimar, who was 
hardly able to stand upright against the furious wind. 
“ The rain will presently fall in torrents. Lean on me, 
and we will try to get as far as the projecting rock, 
where we met the singers when we came up. We shall, 
doubtless, And a dry shelter there until the storm has 
passed.” 

Lucia did as he bid her ; she laid her hand on his 
arm, and felt plainly how closely he pressed it against 
his side. 

They descended slowly, for the path was very steep 
and covered with loose stones. Suddenly Lucia uttered 
a sharp cry of pain and sank to the ground. 

“ For heaven’s sake, miss, what is the matter ?” ex- 
claimed Elimar, bending anxiously over her. 

The girl tried to smile ; but failed utterly. 


186 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ We are unlucky,” she whispered with white lips. 
“ I made a misstep and turned my ankle. It will be 
all right again in a few minutes.” 

But she was mistaken ; the injury was worse than 
she imagined. With Elimar’s help she rose to her 
feet, but was obliged to lean on him for support. 

“I — I must — sit down,” she gasped. “The pain is 
still very intense. I am afraid I can’t walk — just yet.” 

As she was speaking the rain began in earnest, and 
fell, a very deluge, on the defenseless pair. 

“ It is madness to think of stopping here,” exclaimed 
Waldau in desperation. “You will be thoroughly 
drenched. In three minutes we can reach the shelter- 
ing rock. Necessity knows no law, miss, I must carry 
you.” 

He loosed the shawl from her arm, wrapped it about 
her shoulders ; then, lifting the light burden in his 
arms, hurried onward. 

He bent forward in order to shield her as much as 
possible from the rain, unconsciously pressing her 
closely to his breast, in which his heart beat with a 
blessed hope. The rock was reached. A huge, over- 
hanging boulder formed a sheltering roof, beneath 
which nature had also provided several convenient 
rock seats. 

On one of these Elimar carefully deposited his pre- 
cious burden. His knightly act had been successful — 
Lucia had escaped much of the heavy rain from which 
her carrier’s body had shielded her. 

“ Does your ankle still pain ?” he asked, dropping 
lightly on one knee in front of her. “ Perhaps it 
would feel better if the boot were removed. May I 
assist you ?” 

Lucia face flushed slightly : 

“ Thank you, Herr Waldau ; the pain is not so great 


187 


NO ! 

now. See, I can stand on my foot again !” she added, 
rising, and smiling brightly down on him. 

He did not move, but lifted his handsome face plead- 
ingly to hers, and all the love of his heart beamed in 
the eyes he fixed with a speaking glance on hers ; 

“ Lucia !” he exclaimed, in a low, intense tone. 
“ Lucia, hear me, I do not deserve to live if I let this 
hour pass without begging you to decide whether I am 
to be happy or wretched for the remainder of my life. 
I love you, Lucia. You must have known it the first 
day I met you. I have hidden the secret in my heart 
for many anxious months, fearing to reveal it to you. 
My cowardice has made me suffer until I can no longer 
endure it. I must know my fate — it is in your hands, 
Lucia. Lucia, I love you, I love you ! Speak, my 
dearest, may I hope ?” 

Lucia stood before him, her hands pressed against 
her heart. Her face was pale, her eyelids drooped — 
she might have been an image of marble but for the 
gently pulsating breast. 

“ Lucia !” passionately repeated Waldau. “Speak to 
me ! I love you — more than life ! I do not care to 
live if I may not live for you. Speak, Lucia, is it ‘ yes ’ 
or ‘ no !’ ” 

“ No !” burst from the girl’s pallid lips, as her arms 
fell limply to her sides. She swayed, as if unable 
longer to stand upright, but conquered her weakness. 

“ Pray rise, Herr Waldau,” she said calmly. “ I 
want to say something to you. I am going to be frank 
and truthful, though it will pain me to be so. Of all 
the men who visited my father’s house you are the only 
one in whom I became interested, with whom I could 
sympathize. I was always glad to see you, to hear 
your voice, for you never flattered me. I was told that 
you were a genius, but I soon found it out for myself. 


188 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


I admired your talents, and after a-while I began to be 
sorry for you. You are highly gifted, Herr Waldau. 
God has been specially good to you, and you — you do 
not think it worth your while to use your noble talents. 
You are an idler, a mere society butterfly. I can 
understand a man, who has never suffered adversity, 
leading such a life, but your youth was a sorrow- 
ful one, a season of bitter earnest that should have 
taught you that life was not all foam and glitter. I 
dare say you will think me presumptuous for talking 
thus to you, but 1 said I would be frank ; my interest in 
you is too deep to be otherwise. There is in you that 
which ought to have made you a different sort of man. 
Why not let that something have its chance ? Why not 
become the man you ought to be, the man God in- 
tended you to be ? Cease being Ihe weak, helpless 
child that floats aimlessly with the current, and become 
the strong man of energy and ambition I recognize in 
you in spite of the frivolous exterior. Turn from the 
companionship of those who are unworthy of your 
acquaintance, and show the world what you can do ! 
God has given you all that is necessary to make a great 
name. Make it then in God’s name ! Use your noble 
talent, Elimar, use it to advantage, and when you have 
become the man you were born to be, no one will re- 
joice more than I.” 

Waldau stood as if crushed before the girl whose 
cheeks were flushed, whose eyes sparkled with en- 
thusiasm. 

He felt humiliated, deeply humiliated, because he 
knew that she spoke the truth. Could anything more 
painful have happened to him than to hear from those 
girl lips such words ? How utterly insignificant he ap- 
peared in his own eyes ! And yet, a blessed hope still 
lived in his heart, Would Lucia have spoken so can- 


189 


NO ! 

didly, so cruelly frank, had he been indifferent to her? 
No, no ! Her words, “ Become a man !” contained the 
pleading, the solicitude of true love. 

Waldau seized the girl’s right hand and kissed it. 

“ I thank you, mis.s,” he said, in a low but firm tone. 
“ I thank you for your candor. It is worth more to me 
than all the fair words you might have chosen to soften 
your rejection of my suit. You have held before me a 
mirror in which, for the first time in my life, I have 
seen myself as I really am. I do not defend myself. I 
cannot, but I do promise you, Lucia, nay, I swear most 
solemnly, in this hour of bitter humiliation, in presence 
of the all-powerful God, and by my own honor, that I 
will become a man ! I will break with the past, I will 
cast from me my frivolous existence. And, Lucia,” he 
added with still deeper earnestness. “I swear also 
that I will win you. If energy, ambition, work will ac- 
complish it, you shall yet be mine !” 

******* 

Baron Von Menken sat at breakfast and glanced over 
the letters which had come in the morning mail. On 
the top lay an envelope which bore Elimar Waldau’s 
familiar writing. The baron opened the letter and 
read : 

“My Dear Menken: 

“ It is midnight ; my candle is almost burned out ; this pen is 
execrable and the ink half-dried. Therefore, you will excuse me 
if I write briefly. Three days ago I met, here in Brunnen, Coun- 
selor Dreyfuss, his wife, Frau Von Sporken and Lucia von Hack- 
ert. Yesterday afternoon will ever live in my memory, for it has 
changed the whole current of my life. I return to-morrow to 
Berlin ; please tell Susanne to have my rooms ready, as I intend 
to go to work at once, and in earnest, on that picture I began 
long ago for the exhibition. I have done forever with a life of 
idleness. I intend to become a man ! Don’t question me Men- 
ken, but be my friend, my true friend, as always, and help me tp 
become a man, 


190 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ A reconciliation between Dreyfuss and the Borings is likely 
to be effected through the diplomacy of Annie, who arrived at 
Brunnen yesterday. The following telegram was received from 
her husband this evening: ‘ Expect me and Francisco to-mor- 
row.’ Francisco is a sort of upper servant, an Italian youth who 
saved Boring’s life at a dynamite explosion in the Gothard tun- 
nel. I shall be glad if harmony is restored. 

“ Ati/ Wiedersehen, my dear Menken. Yours, 

“ Elimar.” 

Waldau’s letter startled Herr Von Menken — not be- 
cause it told him of the artist’s sudden determination to 
return to Berlin. It was Boring’s telegram — “ Expect 
me and Francisco to-morrow ” — which gave him food 
for thought. Who was this Francisco ? Was he iden- 
tical with the Francisco mentioned by Colonel Von 
Hackert in that last fateful conversation ? ’ Herr Von 
Menken laid Waldau’s letter to one side and proceeded 
to look over the rest of his mail. One envelope after 
another was opened, the contents of the note-sheets 
hastily scanned, then dropped into the waste-basket. 
Last of all the newspapers were examined. Among 
these the baron found Rahlou’s journal. Usually he 
merely glanced over this sheet, but this morning a par- 
agraph in the local columns arrested his attention — 
perhaps because in seemed almost a continuation of the 
train of thought which Elimar’s letter had started in his 
brain. 

“A highly sensational affair,” so ran the notice, “will, in the 
near future, interest our readers as well as our courts of justice. 
Knowing how eagerly our patrons will watch for developments, 
we have engaged the most efficient reportorial talent to supply 
us with the latest news concerning the affair. It has to do with 
a legacy of millions, at present illegally held by — not a masculine 
sinner steeped in crime, but by a young and lovely woman, who 
is sailing under false colors, parading as the daughter of a dis- 
tinguished military officer. One of her confederates is a dissolute 
painter, who understands how to win the favor of good society. 
Those of our readers who are familiar with the ways of our so- 
called ‘ good society ’ will — ” 


191 


NO ! 

The article continued with sneering- denunciations of 
the “ upper classes ” and fulsome laudations of “ honest 
labor.” 

Menken did not care to read further. The paper 
dropped from his hand. He felt as if he had received 
a blow. His brain became a confused whirl. A crim- 
son sea surged before his eyes. Suddenly from the 
blood-red waves rose a pale, earnest face, and again he 
heard the words of his dying friend : 

“ Remember Saint-Estain, Menken, and guard my 
child, my Lucia !” 

The baron sprang to his feet and paced the floor 
excitedly. He had no difficulty in guessing what was 
hinted in the sensational paragraph, nor was he at all 
in doubt as to the writer. The style betrayed Rahlou’s 
pen. Besides, had not the journalist a grudge against 
Waldau, the “ dissolute painter,” who, it was well 
known, was deeply in love with Lucia von Hackert. 

vSuddenly Menken halted beside the door and touched 
the electric button. 

“ I am going to drive, Janisch, and want you to ac- 
company me,” he said to the servant who answered 
the summons. 

Ten minutes later the baron's cart, with its cream- 
colored ponies, was at the door. Janisch took his place 
beside the coachman on the back seat ; Menken himself 
took the reins. 

He drove swiftly toward the old Criminal Court ; but 
stopped when he got to the Gertraudenbriicke, gave 
the reins to the coachman, and alighting, proceeded on 
foot to the weather-beaten structure. He crossed the 
dusty square to the office of the police-commissioner 
and found the man he sought in the narrow cell-like 
apartment, the walls of which seemed formed of legal 
documents. 


192 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Herr Von Holgen greeted his visitor with great 
friendliness — the two men had become friends in the 
last campaign — then swept a pile of documents from 
the only chair in the room and gave it to the baron. 

“ Thank you,” returned Menken. “ I will not detain 
you long, for I know you are busy. I came merely to 
ask a question. Have you read to-day’s newspapers ?” 

Holgen nodded. 

“ That question tells me what brought you here,” he 
responded. “You, too, have read the ‘ highly sensa- 
tional affair.’ ” 

“ Perhaps you can also tell me the name of the writer 
of that article ?” smilingly returned the baron. 

“ I can — a reporter named Rahlou. I got the infor- 
mation just a few minutes ago from our official reporter. 
Since you are here, Herr Von Menken, allow me to give 
you a piece of advice. Keep a sharp watch on the 
papers left by Colohel Von Hackert. An attempt will 
likely be made to steal them from you. Since the night 
you purloined those documents from the colonel’s safe 
for a worthy purpose, the young lady’s enemies have 
been particularly industrious. As you know, I have 
interested myself in the matter, and have done what I 
could to aid you. I think I have made a discovery.” 

“May I hear what it is?” inquired Menken. “You 
may trust me. I shall be prudent.” 

“ Of that I am certain, baron, and I shall not hesitate 
to keep you informed of our progress. We have dis- 
covered the writer of the anonymous letter we received 
after the so-called burglary at Colonel Von Hackert’s 
residence. You remember the letter asserted that val- 
uable family documents had been stolen ?” 

“I remember. Evidently the writer is familiar with 
the secret of Fraulein Von Hackert’s birth.” 

“ That is very likely. The letter, as you know, was 


brought here by a messenger, who told me his station 
was in front of the Hotel de Rome. He also told me 
that he thought the gentleman who had given him the 
letter lodged in the hotel, as he — the messenger — fre- 
quently saw him passing in and out there. We placed 
a policeman on watch near the messenger’s station, and 
not long afterward the anonymous letter-writer was 
pointed out to him. He went at once to the porter of 
the hotel, presented a cigar-case (sacrificed for the pur- 
pose), and said that the gentleman who had just driven 
away in a cab had dropped it. He asked for the name 
and address of the owner of the cigar-case, as he wanted 
to claim a reward. He didn ’t receive a reward, but he 
did get the name of the mysterious stranger — ” 

“ What’s his name ?” eagerly interrupted the baron. 

Holgen turned over the leaves of a bulky folio. 

“ In a moment. Ah, here it is : ‘ Giulio Cadama, 
teacher of languages, from Rome, lodged, from the 
1 6th of February to the 23d of March, in the Hotel de 
Rome. Afterward in furnished apartments in Doro- 
thea Street, No. 287.’ ” 

Herr Von Menken knit his brows perplexedly. Where 
had he heard that name ? Ah. yes, now he remem- 
bered : Counselor Dreyfuss had told him that Frau 
Von Hilgersdorf was taking Italian lessons from a man 
named Cadama. 

“ I have had this signor watched for several weeks,” 
continued the commissioner. “ There is nothing about 
his conduct to rouse suspicion — at least not in the mind 
of a police-officer,” he interpolated smilingly. “ He is 
frequently seen in company with Herr Rahlou, whose 
name is well known to us, consequently we may easily 
guess the source of the article in to-day’s paper. / be- 
lieve the Italian to be a dangerous fellow ; but we can 
do nothing with him, nor with the reporter, so long as 


194 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


they do not tresspass against the law. If I can serve 
you in any other way, my dear baron, I hope you will 
command me, for I am deeply interested in the young 
lady whose cause you have espoused. By the way, any 
news of the scarf-pin you lost the night you took the 
papers from the colonel’s safe? It was a pearl held by 
a golden talon, I believe ?” 

“Yes. No, I have heard nothing of it, and that is 
rather comforting. I may have lost it elsewhere ; if I 
did, I need not fear being accused of ‘ burglary.’ But I 
am taking up too much of your time, Her Von Holgen. 
I am greatly indebted to you. Let me assure you 
again that you may trust me implicitly. Will you 
send me word when you hear anything that would in- 
terest me ?” 

The commissioner promised to do so, and Menken 
took leave. He walked back to his cart and drove to 
Waldau’s apartments. The artist had arrived that 
morning, and was already busy tacking his sketches on 
the walls of the studio. 

The baron was too cute an observer not to notice im- 
mediately the alteration in his young friend’s manner. 
He had never seen Elimar so earnest, and yet so cheer- 
fully active. The two men were soon seated on the 
lounge, underneath a wall-decoration of shields, spears 
and East Indian implements of war ; and Elimar began 
at once to pour out his heart to his friend. He told 
everything. His walk with Lucia, his confession of 
love to her, her rejection of his suit. 

The farther he proceeded in his recital the deeper 
became the lines about Baron Menken’s stern mouth — 
the more serious became his expressive face. The heart 
of the elder man beat rapidly as he listened to the pas- 
sionate words. It was oppressed by the weight of a 
terrible pain. 


195 


NO ! 

When Elimar had concluded, the baron, whose face 
had grown perceptibly paler, rose and laid his muscu- 
lar white hand on the young man’s shoulder. 

“ I have always avoided discussing the subject of 
love with you, Elimar,” he said, quietly, “ because I 
fancied that the flame which had been kindled in your 
heart would soon burn out. I did not believe that you 
loved Lucia with all the strength of your noble nature, 
therefore I sought to suppress what I believed an 
ephemeral passion. I see now that I was mistaken, and 
I ask your pardon. Every one is liable to err. /shall 
try to retrieve my error. You are not angry, are you, 
Elimar ?” 

Elimar sprang to his feet and caught the baron’s hand 
in both his own. 

‘‘ No — no, indeed, Attokar ! How could I be angry 
with you, my best, my unselfish friend ? If you were 
deceived in me, I alone am to blame for it. Lucia is 
right. I have not been the man I was born to become. 
And you were right in thinking Lucia too good for the 
indolent, ambitionless idler. But I intend to lead a 
different life, Menken, a life that will justify me in ask- 
ing again for the dear girl’s love.” 

“ You talk like a brave man, my boy,” responded the 
baron. “ Let your acts be commensurate to your words, 
and you will not have to wait long for your reward. I 
believe now that you love Lucia truly and with a last- 
ing passion, consequently it is my duty to trust you with 
a secret that concerns her. You must keep the secret 
from her, Elimar, and help me to defend her from the 
enemies who surround her on every side.” 

“Enemies? Lucia?” in astonishment -exclaimed 
Waldau, his eyes flaming. “ What can you mean, 
Attokar ? Who are these enemies ?” 

Susanne’s entrance interrupted him. Herr Von 


196 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Hackert had called to welcome Herr Waldau back to 
Berlin. 

“ Chance, my dear Elimar, answers your question,” 
said Menken. “ I have warned you before against this 
dissolute student, for he belongs to those who hate 
Lucia, and would rejoice to see her torn from her proud 
position and cast into the dust. However,” he added 
hurriedly, “ receive him as usual, for he must not guess 
that we suspect him.” 

Waldau had seen very little of Herbert Von Hackert 
— had, indeed, avoided him as much as it was possible. 
What, then, was the cause of the student’s sudden 
friendliness ? 

Menken at once guessed the cause. He had for some 
time been closely observing this scion of an ancient and 
noble race, and lately had become convinced that Hack- 
^rt was one of the chief plotters in the intrigue against 
Lucia. He remembered also that Signor Cadama had 
been introduced by Hackert to Frau Von Hilgersdorf. 

Waldau’s reception of his visitor was cold, if courteous. 

The loquacious student at once began a stream of 
small talk. He had heard from “ some one ” that 
Waldau had seen the Borings in Switzerland. How 
were they getting on ? He had always liked Boring, 
and was delighted to hear of his success as an engineer. 
Was there any truth in the rumor that Boring’s life 
had been saved by a mere lad ? What was the brave 
little fellow’s name ? Ah, yes, Francisco Pedretti ! 
Wasn’t it strange that this Italian lad should resemble 
his cousin Lucia ? By the way, how was Lucia ? Bid 
she intend to spend the summer in Switzerland ? And 
did old Sporken still go about looking like a silver-ash, 
all in gray ? 

At last, wearied beyond endurance, Elimar abruptly 
cut short the stream of questions. He asked to be ex- 


. 197 


NO ! 

cused, as he was very tired, and still had much to do 
before evening, and amid a flood of parting words the 
student took his departure. 

******* 

Late that evening Baron Menken was returning 
home from a reception at the house of a friend who 
lived near the zoological garden. The road along the 
canal at that hour was always deserted and frequently 
had been the scene of assault and robbery. 

Janisch, who was seated on the box beside the coach- 
man, heard, above the noise of the swiftly rolling car- 
riage, a sudden cry that seemed to come from the 
shrubbery along the bank of the stream. The old 
valet knew his master’s habits too well to continue on 
the homeward way when a fellow-being might need 
their assistance. He bade the coachman stop, sprang 
from the box, and opened the carriage door. 

“ What is the matter ? Why do we stop here ?” 
sleepily queried the baron, sitting upright. 

“ I heard a cry for help, baron, and think some one is 
in danger over yonder by the water,” replied Janisch. 

■ Before he had concluded the baron was out of the 
carriage, alert and ready for action. 

“ Have you your club, Janisch?” he asked. 

The old man nodded affirmatively. He always car- 
ried the formidable weapon when he went out nights 
with his master. 

Menken took the coachman’s whip ; and grasping it 
so that the heavy silver ball on the handle might serve 
as a club, he stepped cautiously, followed by Janisch, 
toward the canal. 

On the grassy slope of the embankment two men 
were industriously rifling the pockets of a third, whom 
they had evidently knocked down, and who was 
apparently unconscious. The robbers had torn off 


198 . 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


their victim’s coat, and were so absorbed in their 
search for plunder, that they had not heard the baron’s 
carriage, but when the shrubbery near them rustled, 
and two dark forms emerged from it and came swiftly 
forward, the rogues forgot their victim, dropped his 
coat and ran hastily down the embankment and were 
lost in the darkness. Janisch was aliout to examine 
the injured man when the baron interposed. 

“We will carry him at once to the carriage and take 
him home with us,’’ he said. “ Evidently he has been 
badly hurt, and I smell chloroform, too ! The rascals 
knocked him on the head when he called for help, and, 
not satisfied with that, chloroformed him. Now,” care- 
fully, “ what are you waiting for ?” he demanded, as 
Janisch held back reluctantly. 

“ Hadn’t we better take him to the nearest police- 
station instead of — ” 

“Don’t be so stupid, Janisch!” impatiently inter- 
rupted his master. “ Thirty years in my service and 
don’t know me yet I Were we to cart this poor devil to 
the station he would be laid on a wooden bench until 
he recovered — or died ! Nobody would take the trouble 
at this hour to look after his wounds. Come along ! 
We ’ll take him home, and you will fetch Doctor Nobb- 
ser, who will get up at any hour — even if he is ill him- 
self — to attend a suffering human being.” 

“ I only meant, baron, that this man looks as much 
of a rogue as the two knaves who robbed him. Just 
look at him, baron ; he — ” 

“ Stop chattering and lend a hand !” again inter- 
rupted the baron, and the peremptory order was obeyed 
without further hesitation. 

The injured man was taken to Baron Menken’s apart- 
ments, where he was carefully undressed and laid on an 
improvised couch. The baron, with his own hands, 


199 


NO ! 

applied wet cloths to the wounded head. Then he went 
into the adjoining room to await the coming of the 
doctor. 

On the floor lay a letter-case that had evidently fallen 
from the injured man’s clothes. Menken carelessly 
picked it up, but his carelessness vanished when he 
read the name “ Giulio Cadama ” in silver letters on the 
dark -leather binding. 

Was this the hand of fate ? 

Menken’s heart beat loudly as he opened the letter- 
case. Naturally he asked himself if he were not doing 
wrong to pry into a stranger’s secrets ; but was not this 
stranger an enemy ? Might not this letter-case, which 
chance had thrown into his hand, contain that which 
could destroy the being who was dearer than life to 
him ? 

“ Menken stepped to the door of the room, in which 
lay the Italian still unconscious, and softly bolted it. 
Now he was safe from interruption ! A number of 
papers fell from the letter-case when Menken opened 
it. With feverish haste he unfolded one after another. 
There were several due-bills bearing Herbert von 
Hackert’s signature ; also a letter from the student, 
which convinced Menken of the young man’s evil in- 
tentions toward Lucia. There was a tiny missive ad- 
dressed to “ Brutus Cassius,” and containing only three 
words : 

“ I await you.” 

And — But what did this mean ? How came this 
old letter, written years ago by General Von Hilgers- 
dorf, in Cadama’s pocket ? What was the meaning of 
the red marks underneath some of the words and the 
blue circles drawn around many of the letters ? 

More and more interested the baron continued his 


200 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


examination. He unfolded a large document and found 
the answer to his questions. The sheet contained more 
of General Von Hilgersdorf’s writing ; but a practiced 
eye would have detected that it was a forgery. There 
were several slips of paper which bore evidences of 
the counterfeiter’s patient and industrious labor. 

The context of the forged document horrified and 
enraged Menken to such a degree, that he was obliged 
to summon all his self-command to keep himself from 
rushing into the next room and severely punishing the 
man he had rescued from the murderous footpads. 
His blood boiled as he read : 

“ Given on the seventeenth day of March, in the year 1859, 

in B , Canton Tessin, in the presence of Giulio Cadama, 

attorney from Rome. 

“I, the undersigned, do hereby acknowledge, and declare in 
the presence of the above mentioned witness, that the infant 
daughter, born to Baron Karl von Hackert-Selchern and Anna 
Maria («/<? Von Wollwitz), his wife, died an hour after her birth. 

I declare further, that the dead infant was exchanged for the 
living infant daughter (born on the same day as the Hackert- 
Selchern infant) of Carmella Boccani, vivandiere in Garibaldi’s 
army; and that, with the consent of said Carmella Boccani, her 
daughter was to be reared as the child of Baron Karl von 
Hackert-Selchern and his wife Anna Maria. 

“I swear to the above stated fact, as I was a witness to the 
exchange of infants. 

{Signed\ “ Bodo VON Hilgersdorf.” 

Baron Menken clenched his hand and drew a long 
breath. How should he act ? What should he do to 
defend the helpless orphan against such an enemy ? 
Should he retain possession of the letter-case with its 
compromising documents ? Would not that be the 
proper weapon to use against 3"onder unconscious 
scoundrel ? Cadama would believe that the thieves 
had taken the letter-case. 

A sound in the adjoining room concluded Menken’s 
deliberations. He hastily thrust the letter- case into 


201 


NO ! 

a drawer, which he locked, then went out into the 
next room. 

The injured man’s eyes were now wide open, and 
wandering perplexedly about the room. 

“Where am I ?” he asked in a voice that had not yet 
regained its strength. 

“ Calm yourself, signor" said Menken, stepping to 
the bedside, and forcing himself to speak calmly. 
“ You have been assaulted by thieves. Chance led me to 
your assistance. I brought you here and sent for a 
doctor.” 

“A doctor?” repeated Cadama, his tones growing 
stronger. “ What for ? Because of this scratch ? Dia- 
volo ! That is unnecessary. Take me to my own apart- 
ments — that would be more to the purpose ! Per 
bacco ! Those rascally bandits make me think myself 
back in my blessed Italia ! But, who are you ?” he 
asked suddenly, resting his glance on the tall form by 
the bedside. 

“ Baron Menken,” was the reply. 

“Ah, Herr Von Menken? How very singular ! I 
have heard often of you. Baron, my name is Cadama. 
I am a teacher of Italian, and have several scholars 
who are acquaintances of yours. Maledetto ! This 
wound pains horribly.” 

He closed his eyes, but opened them again quickly 
and looked anxiously toward his clothes, which were 
lying on a chair near the bed. 

“ Did those rogues clean out everything ?” he asked 
eagerly. “ Baron, may I ask you to hand me the waist- 
coat ? Not the coat — the waist-coat, the waist-coat,” 
he repeated with feverish impatience. 

He snatched the garment from Menken’s hand, felt 
in the inside-pocket, then gave utterance to a savage 
oath. 


202 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Curse the villains ! The damnable scoundrels !” he 
muttered under his breath. “ Beg pardon, baron, but 
they have taken what was more valuable than money. 
Papers — papers of inestimable value to me. Help me, 
baron, advise me ! , How shall I get back my valuable 
papers ?” 

Menken sought to console him. The police would 
have to be informed, a description of the two robbers 
furnished, and the papers would doubtless be re- 
turned. 

This advice, however, seemed to augment rather than 
allay the injured man’s excitement. He tore the 
bandages from his head, sprang out of bed, trem- 
blingly examined every one of his pockets, then fell 
fainting to the floor. 

Fortunately, the doctor at those moment arrived. He 
examined the injured man, and pronouned the wound 
harmless if the patient could be kept quiet. Cadama, 
therefore, remained the baron’s guest until the morn- 
ing, when he was taken to his own lodgings in the 
baron’s carriage. 

Shortly after the departure of the uninvited guest, 
Menken repaired to Commissioner Von Holgen’s office, 
when he related the occurrence of the past night and 
exhibited Cadama’s letter-case, with the forged docu- 
ment. 

Herr Von Holgen smiled as usual. 

“A valuable find, indeed, my dear baron!” he ex- 
claimed. “ You are a born detective ! It was an ex- 
cellent idea to retain the letter-case. Although the 
contents do not warrant an immediate arrest of the 
Italian forger, we are collecting valuable evidence, 
which will in the end accomplish our purpose. I shall 
have these papers photographed, then return them and 
the letter-case to the owner — ” 


! 


203 


“ Return them ?” repeated Menken, disapprovingly, 
“ Return these important documents ?” 

“Certainly,” nodded Herr Von Holgen. “We must 
do nothing to make this worthy Southern shy of us, but 
allow •him to retain his feeling of perfect security. 
Permit me, my dear baron, to conduct this case. 
Cadama shall have his letter-case, not directly from my 
hands — that would make him wary — but in a way that 
will never make him suspect that we have seen it. A 
circuitous route often leads to the desired goal in crim- 
inal matters as well as in politics,” 

******* 

That same day Signor Cadama received, by mail, his 
letter-case, wrapped in coarse brown paper. Nothing 
was missing from it, but in it was found a soiled scrap 
of paper, on which was scrawled the following : 

“ When next you promenade alone at night have the goodness 
to carry in your pockets something besides worthless due-bills and 
old letters. By so doing you will oblige your two friends of last 
night.” 



V 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE CAMPAGNOLE. 

The summer months were drawing to a close. Al- 
ready the foliage on tree and shrub began to show 
autumnal hues ; while the ardor of the sun became less 
oppressive as the days waned, and the breeze indicated, 
by its refreshing coolness, the approaching change of 
seasons. 

With the waning of the summer, society at the Resi- 
denz took on new life. The various resorts in mount- 
ain and at the seashore became deserted ; country- 
houses and rurul villas were closed, their occupants 
having returned to the capital and its social gayeties. 

Among the birds of passage returning homeward was 
Counselor Dreyfuss and his party. Herr Dreyfuss was 
perfectly satisfied with the results of his summer jour- 
neying. Not only was his health greatly improved — 
his full-moon face was rosier than ever, his double chin 
more prominent, while his white waistcoat described a 
semicircle that was broken nowhere in its faultless 
curve by a single wrinkle — but his mind and heart were 
again at rest. The physician who had worked such 
[204] 



THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


205 


wonders was Frau Annie Doring-, whose “ diplomatic 
artfulness ” had effected a reconciliation between her 
husband and her uncle, their mutual resentment and 
past differences having been drowned in a bowl of 
champagne the evening Doring arrived at Brunnen. 

If the counselor was content and happy, then we may 
say, without exaggerating, that his wife was in a state 
of beatitude — even though Doring had firmly refused 
her appeal that he would at once quit the snowy region 
of the St. Gothard, with all its fearful dangers, and at 
once return with Annie to Berlin. 

Another member had been added to the counselor’s 
household. Francisco, the Italian youth, who had ac- 
companied Lieutenant Doring to Brunnen. The lad’s 
shy, yet cheerful and active manner had so won the old 
counselor, that he offered him a place in his service. 
The young campagnole accepted the offer, and he now 
wore the Dreyfuss livery — dark blue, with silver but- 
tons stamped with the monogram A. D. — which was 
very becoming to his dusky beauty. 

Francisco Pedretti — so he called himself, and thus he 
was registered in his passport — was boyish in looks and 
manner. According to his own story he had had a 
sorrowful childhood. His father had been a worthless 
fellow, the evil star of his beloved mother, who had had 
a hard struggle for existence. Both parents were dead, 
and had left him helpless. There were few trades he 
had not tried in order to gain a livelihood. He had 
tended goats on the verdant pastures of the canipagna, 
had posed as a model for the artists who sought subjects 
on the Scala de Spagna. He had acted as guide to 
tourists who wished to explore the Eternal City ; he 
had blacked boots mornings, sold oranges at noon, and 
distributed theater programmes evenings. He had 
been a figurant in the ballet, a lamp-lighter, color- 


206 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


grinder, seller of amulets, jockey, peddler and street 
musician. In fact, there was but one of the many 
trades practiced on the seven hills of Rome he had not 
stooped to learn — that of begging. No, he had had 
too much pride for that. His mother had told him that 
her ancestors had once been rich and honorable patri- 
cians of the Tiber City. And could the descendant of 
such a race stoop to beg ? To clean lamps in the Teatro 
della Valle, to grind colors in an artist’s atelier — that 
was no disgrace ; but to beg, with healthy body and 
limbs — pfui ! — that was dishonorable. 

Thus the youthful Francisco had managed to eke 
out an existence, until a wealthy patron secured work 
for him in the Gothard Tunnel. How he came to be 
with Lieutenant Doring we know. The lieutenant, who 
was very much attached to the brave lad, was glad to 
have him enter the counselor’s service, where he would 
be sure to have a comfortable home. 

Francisco had another sincere friend in Lucia von 
Hackert. At first the young girl had found the lad’s 
strange resemblance to her awkward and unpleasant ; 
but later, when she learned what a brave, good-humored 
and tender-hearted youth he was, she began to take an 
interest in him. She had been deeply touched by his 
grief over a dead bird, and fancied that his heart must 
be weighted by a secret sorrow because she had seen 
him, from her window one moonlight night, lying on 
the grass, with his tearful eyes fixed on the sky and 
his lips moving as if in prayer. 

Perhaps Francisco guessed the young lady’s sym- 
pathy for himself, which was betrayed by her kind 
words and treatment. He seemed to treasure her 
every word ; he obeyed her slightest wish ; and once, 
when she casually remarked that she had never seen a 
genuine edelweiss blossom, Francisco appeared the next 


THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


207 


morning with a nosegay of the snowy flowers. He had 
climbed the mountain before daylight in order to pro- 
cure them for her. 

******* 

It was the first day of the autumn races, *and Coun- 
selor Dreyfuss drove with his wife and Lucia von 
Hackert and her chaperon to the Hoppegarten to view 
the sport. Herr Dreyfuss was particularly interested 
in a new horse of Baron Von Menken’s that was to 
make its first appearance as a racer on the track to- 
day. All the sporting world pronounced Tollkopf, the 
baron’s new horse, a magnificent animal ; all sinew 
and muscle ; one that could go like the wind, and to- 
day was to decide whether this reputation was deserved. 
Lieutenant Von Wedell, whom the counselor had met 
on the street the day befoj:e, doubted it, and thought 
Tollkopf’s capabilities exaggerated. Whereupon Drey- 
fuss had offered to wager that the horse would outstrip * 
everything else on the track. The wager had been 
promptly accepted. 

When the Dreyfuss equipage arrived on the track, 
the opening race was already finished. The victorious 
jockey, swinging his cap in the air, the perspiration 
streaming over his crimson face, swung past to the 
music of applauding voices and the waving of hats and 
handkerchiefs. 

“ We are just in time,” exclaimed the counselor, his 
round face beaming with delight. He took his field- 
glass from its case, which hung by a strap over his 
shoulder, and looked carefully about him. A sea of 
brilliant colors stretched before him. The track was 
clear, with the exception of two grooms who were re- 
pairing a slight break in the boundary pickets. The 
crowd at the starting place was composed of uniformed 
jockeys, the owners of the horses, judges, trainers and 


208 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


grooms. On either side of the starting-place rose tier 
upon tier of seats for the spectators, flanked by a seem- 
ingly interminable barricade of vehicles, horsemen and 
persons on foot. 

That was a tumult, a hub-bub, a hurly-burly ! All 
classes were represented on this common ground. 
Everybody from a royal prince down to, the worthy 
butcher who, with “ mother and the children,” had 
rattled up in his meat cart to see the “ capers of Mucius 
vScavola.” 

Here, too, were assembled, those questionable per- 
sonages who are never absent from the scene where the 
chase after gold may be pursued. Here were haughty 
dames in silks and laces, and gallant squires on horse- 
back and on foot, and mingling among them all, were 
the perambulating restaurants, programme-sellers, 
flower-girls and a hundred others for whom the race- 
track is a place of profit and trade. 

“There’s Menken ! And there’s Waldau, too, riding 
the baron’s Hinkepinke !” cried Dreyfuss, waving his 
handkerchief to attract the attention of the two horse- 
men. 

Menken had already descried the counselor’s carriage 
by reason of the dusky-skinned lad who, clad in his be- 
coming livery, sat stiffly upright on the box beside the 
coachman, and who, since the counselor’s return from 
vSwitzerland, had been the subject of the keenest obser- 
vation from the baron. 

The gentlemen lifted their hats when they were come 
within speaking distance of the carriage, a by no means 
easy task in that crowd. 

“ Hail to you, baron,” shouted the counselor. “ And 
to you, Apollo’s heir ! Have you entered for the hur- 
dles, Waldau, that you are seated so proudly on Menken’s 
steeple-chaser? You sit your steed like a centaur !” 


THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


209 


“ Thanks for the compliment, counselor,” smilingly- 
responded Elimar. “ I think, ho-wever, that the credit for 
my seat belongs more to Hinkepinke than to me. Men- 
ken insisted on my accompanying him on horseback, 
and as I served my time in a cavalry corps I thought I 
might venture.” 

“ Do you intend to ride Tollkopf yourself, Herr Von 
Menken ?” asked Frau Dreyfuss. 

“ I ? With all this embonpoint ?” ejaculated the 
baron. “ My dear madam, you are mocking me. Wait 
until you see my trainer, my brave Thompson. I be- 
lieve I weigh six times as much as he does.” 

Frau Therese hadn’t the least idea what sort of a 
being a “ trainer ” might be, but she nodded under- 
standingly, nevertheless. She admired Herr Von 
Menken, and liked to engage him in conversation. 

“ That is a man,” she was wont to observe, “ to whom 
one can talk about the important mysteries of the 
kitchen.” 

Waldau, meanwhile, bent toward Lucia, and said : 

“ May I inquire after your health, gracious miss ?” 

The young girl smiled, and lifted her dark eyes 
frankly to his face. 

“ Thanks,” she responded. “ I am very well. Allow 
me in turn to inquire how your picture is getting on — I 
mean the one you intend for the exhibition this winter ?” 

“ It is finished,” replied the artist, and there was a 
touch of pride in the tone. 

“Finished?” in surprise echoed Lucia. “Already 
finished ? How very industrious you have been ! It 
was not yet half-finished when you were at Brunnen — ” 

She paused abruptly, while a rosy flush sufifused her 
face. 

Elimar noticed her confusion, and his heart beat 
more quickly. 


210 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ I must have imbibed new life and energy in that 
delightful mountain region. At least, I feel as if I had 
become a different being,” he returned, in a low 
tone. 

“ For which of the races have you entered Tollkopf, 
Herr Von Menken ?” asked the counselor, who was 
studying his programme. 

“ For number six,” was the reply. 

“ Ah, yes ; here it is ; ‘ Tollkopf ; three-year-old, by 

Menelaus, out of Aunt Pitty.’ Um ! Only three years 
old ? Well, my dear baron, if he wins to-day I ’ll con- 
gratulate you, for he will be good for a half-dozen 
years more. By the way, won’t you have a glass of 
port — Cliquot — Blanqueville ?” Before the baron could 
reply, Herr Dreyfuss turned toward Francisco and 
added: “Jump down, my boy, and get the wine- 
basket.” 

Francisco slipped from his seat and stepped to the 
rear of the carriage, where he was about to unlock the 
receptacle underneath the back-seat, when a hand was 
laid on his shoulder, and a voice whispered in his ear : 

“ Attention !” 

Then he felt a piece of paper thrust into his palm. 

A short distance from the counselor’s carriage was a 
hired conveyance, in which sat Herbert von Hackert 
and Signor Cadama. Near them stood Assessor Prings- 
berg and Herr Blenkner, chatting. 

Cadama resumed his seat by the student, which he 
had quitted for a moment, and said in a low tone : 

“ I gave him the note. The boy must find a way to 
come to see me, at least three times a week, for instruc- 
tions.” 

“ I don’t think he will have any difficulty in getting 
an hour or two occasionally. Dreyfuss seems a kind- 
hearted old fellow,” observed Hackert. “ All I am 


THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


911 


afraid of is that the yougster may become rebellious. 
I don’t altogether trust his dusky phiz !” 

“ Nor do I,” muttered Cadama under his breath. 
Aloud, he added ; “ Francisco is a peculiar lad, and 
rather hard to manage. However, he is quite submis- 
sive toward me, and he knows that it is to his advan- 
tage to obey me. I don’t think you need have any fear 
concerning him, as — ” 

“ I say, Hackert,” here interrupted Pringsberg’s 
voice, “are you betting on Kolkraban ? You will per- 
sist that the beast can’t be beaten. We want to. bet 
that she will be the last to reach the goal.” 

“ Done ! I ’ll take your bet,” called Hackert. “ Fifty 
marks, if you wish.” 

Cadama laid his hand on the student’s arm. 

“ Isn’t that Rahlou over yonder,” he asked. “ Diavolo! 
Rahlou on horseback !” 

A loud laugh burst from Hackert’s lips ; 

“ Don Quixote, as I live ! Don Quixote himself !” he 
exclaimed. “ Rahlou must be crazy to show himself 
on such a nag ! Where in the world did he get her ? 
Ho, doctor ! Rahlou !” he called in a loud voice. 
“ Come over here !” 

The reporter, with difficulty, urged his Rosinante 
through the dense crowd. He certainly looked irresist- 
ibly comical. The long-legged, bony*steed, with her 
crooked withers and crane-neck, would have made an 
excellent specimen for veterinary students. Rahlou 
himself clung nervously to the saddle ; but with an air 
which left no one in doubt as to his own appearance of 
his horsemanship. A gray “chimney-pot” hat was 
balanced on his carefully curled locks ; brick-dust 
colored gloves covered his hands, which held the reins 
on a level with his breast. The stirrups were so short 
that his knees described acute angles. 


m 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Don’t come too near, my dear Rahlou,’.’ called the 
student, as Rahlou approached the 'wagonette. “ You 
might spoil my new coat ! Tell me, in heaven’s name, 
where did you get that hideous crib-biter ?” 

Rahlou’s face darkened. He leaned forward and 
stroked his horse’s neck : 

“ I am not rich enough to buy a blooded steed, Herr 
Von Hackert,” he returned, with a dignified air. “ If 
you don't like my mount, you — ” 

“ Nonsense,” laughingly interposed the student. 
“ Can’t you take a bit of fun ? Then — don’t come any 
nearer, please ; Rosinante is inclined to be too familiar. 
Have you written that article ?” 

“ I have, and am awaiting the order to publish it.” 

“ You will probably receive it to-day.” 

“The earlier the better, baron. You will enjoy the 
‘ skit. ’ It is transparent without being gross, piquant 
without trespassing on decency. In short, it’s a model 
of its kind.” 

“You have heard, I dare say, what has been said 
about self-praise ?” returned Hackert. “ But your vanity 
will be condoned if the article in question is what you 
describe it. Frau Von Hilgersdorf returns home to- 
morrow or next day. We shall then be prepared to re- 
sume operations.” 

“ A word with •you, my dear Rahlou,” here whispered 
Blenkner in the reporter’s ear which was furthest from 
the student. “Waldau’s large picture, which he has 
named ^ Kerkcrzvonnc’ is finished, and is to be hung at 
Gurlitt’s before the opening of the exhibition. I have 
seen the thing — a most execrable daub ! I hope you 
won’t forget to give it the sort of notice it deserves ?” 

A meaning smile wreathed the reporter’s lips. 

“ Never fear, my dear Blenkner,” he returned. 
“After my criticism of \.h.Q * Kerkerwotine,' its creator 


the CAMPAGHOLE. 


213 


will be dead — dead as dust to the art-world. I am not 
the art-reviewer on our journal, but I fancy I may for 
once take up that writer’s pen. Perhaps Herr Waldau, 
when he reads my review, will remember a certain 
hour at the Cafe Bauer !” 

The signal for the next race was given. As the 
starter’s flag fell, the horses shot over the track, Men- 
ken’s three-year-old close on the heels of the one in the 
lead. The jockey who rode him wore white and blue. 
Lucia was the first to notice it, for they were her favor- 
ite colors. 

Herr Dreyfuss stood up in his carriage. He held his 
glass to his eyes, and closely followed the horses, ac- 
companying every turn with ejaculatory remarks : 

“ Incredible ! Tollkopf is third — his jockey is hold- 
ing him in for the finish. Now, Count Bilberg’s 
Teremtito has the lead. No — yes — no, Tollkopf is forg- 
ing to the front. Lucia ! Therese ! Frau Von 
Sporken, just look how that beast flings his hoofs ! 
Hei ! He’s going like the wind. There, Jiopsa ! over 
the hurdle ! — over the ditch ! — hopsa ! — down goes 
Oelsky’s filly ! Now she’s up again ! Bravo — bravo ! 
over the wall! hci — how Tollkopf is snorting! For- 
ward, forward, old boy ! Teremtito is close on your 
heels. Who’s that limping in the rear? Oechelheim’s 
Kolkrable ? Yes, it is — he’s out. Now to the finish, 
lads ! Who’s ahead now ? Teremtito — yes — no — there 
comes Tollkopf ! Heavens, how that brute flies ! 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ! Hurrah ! ! ! He’s ahead — he 
has won !” 

Perfectly exhausted, the counselor sank down on the 
cushions, while the crowd shouted vociferously : 

“ Hurrah for Tollkopf ! Hurrah for Tollkopf !” 

Even Frau Therese added her weak plaudits to the 
universal acclamation. Lucia alone sat silent in her 


214 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


corner and surveyed, without a trace of interest on her 
calm face, the turmoil over Menken’s triumph. 

“ The baron, who was the hero of the day, would 
gladly have exchanged all the glory of his horse’s 
triumph, the handsome prize and all the sincere and 
insincere gratulations for a single friendly smile from 
a pair of silent red lips and a sympathetic glance from 
two sparkling black eyes. 

Later, Menken and Elimar Waldau were riding slowly 
homeward along the dusty street when the Dreyfuss 
carriage passed them. Mutual greetings were ex- 
changed. Francisco, following his master’s suit, re- 
moved the blue cap from his curly head. . 

“ I don’t know what to think of that lad,” observed 
Menken, looking after the carriage. “ Either he is a 
finished hypocrite and thorough knave in spite of his 
youth, or else he is as innocent and guileless as a 
cherub !” 

“ I am inclined to believe the latter,” responded 
Waldau. “ I can’t believe that two beings so closely 
connected by blood could be so different in character. 
Dreyfuss is full of praise of the boy’s honesty and 
fidelity ; and I must confess that I have become very 
much attached to the little fellow.” 

Menken adjusted his hat more securely on his head, 
then observed moodily : 

“ I can’t see my way clear out of this labyrinth. If I 
had not in my possession the letters written by Francisco 
to extort money from Colonel Hackert, I should not 
think of doubting the lad, however much other circum- 
stances might militate against his apparent honesty. 
Until convinced that he is innocent, we must hold to 
the facts which show him to be in league with that 
rascally Italian Cadama. It would be an easy matter 
to summon the lad before a police justice and question 


THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


215 


him concerning his assumed name. His calling him- 
self ‘ Pedretti ’ certainly warrants such a course ; but 
I don’t care to resort to that step just yet. The most 
disagreeable part of the whole complicated affair is 
that the police cannot act as energetically and promptly 
as we should like, because the law has not yet been 
trespassed. Not even Cadama’s forgery of Hilgers- 
dorf’s writing comes within punishable limits, because 
the document has not been used to defraud or injure 
any one. We must wait. But, by heaven, waiting 
never was so difficult as it is now !” 

Elimar drew a long breath before responding. 

“Yes, waiting is a hard task. My days pass quickly 
enough, for I have my work to take up my attention. 
But nights, when I can’t paint, all sorts of thoughts and 
fears trouble me. I am overwhelmed by the fear of 
how much Lucia must suffer when she learns the secret 
of her birth. / don’t care that she is the daughter of 
a beggar. I should adore her were she herself a 
beggar ! Oh, how she will suffer when she learns that 
she is not the daughter of the man whom she loved 
and revered above every being on earth ! How she 
will suffer when she learns that it was her own brother 
who aided to tear her from all the happy illusions of 
her girlhood !” 

The baron nodded thoughtfully, and after a moment’s 
silence, said : 

“ I have been for some time considering the possi- 
bility of winning Francisco to our side. We may be 
mistaken in the lad’s character ; he seems amiable and 
yielding, and being easily influenced, may have been 
persuaded by Cadama to become Lucia’s traducer. 
Could we win the lad’s allegiance, by golden means if 
necessary, we might be able to learn the Italian’s plans. 
That would be a considerable step forward, for Cadama 


216 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


seems to me to have intentions ulterior to those which 
will transform the dissolute student into a millionaire. 
To-day, while Tollkopf was racing to victory, an idea 
occurred to me. Drey fuss told me a few days ago that 
Francisco had once been a jockey, and to quite a ‘ swag- 
ger’ sporting man, the Marchese Filippo Serena. Well, 
old Thompson has become so infirm that I fear to-day’s 
triumph will be his last effort on the track, what do 
you say to my engaging Francisco as my jockey ?” 

A capital idea. But will Dreyfuss consent to Fran- 
cisco’s leaving him ?” 

“ The counselor is indebted to me for his latest honoi, 
the order of the ‘ Red Eagle,’ which fact will, I fancy, 
operate favorably in my behalf. As for Francisco, I 
hope to arouse in him a passion for riding. He who 
has once ridden to victory on the race-course — and the 
little campagnole rode Serena’s Mandolinata to the 
winning goal — for him the saddle is a throne of roses ! 
I may be mistaken, but there is no harm in — ” 

He broke off suddenly as the wagonette containing 
Herbert von Hackert and Signor Cadama bowled past 
them. The occupants of the two vehicles saluted, the 
avvocato bowing with extreme deference when he recog- 
nized his preserver. 

“ The inseparables !” sneered Hackert. “ I dislike 
those two fellows, one is a sneak and intriguer, the 
other a hypocrite and police spy — ” 

“ Police spy ?” echoed Cadama. “ Surely you can’t 
mean Baron Von Menken?” 

“ I just do mean Baron Von Menken — he is a spy in 
the service of the police — a ferret — a listener !” 

“ Baron Von Menken ?” incredulously repeated the 
Italian, a sudden fear seizing him. 

“ I can’t prove it, of course,” resumed the student. 
“ But I suspect — nay, I am sure of it. Did you notice 


THE CAMPAGNOLE, 


217 


that tall, blonde-haired man who saluted Menken so cor- 
dially after the race ? That is our most celebrated 
criminalist — a very devil of cunning, a person feared 
and dreaded by every one who has cause to fear. His 
. name is Von Holgen.” 

Diavolo !” ejaculated Cadama. “Was that Com- 
missioner Von Holgen ? Why have you not told me 
before that he and Baron Von Menken are friends?” 

“ Because it never occurred to me as necessary you 
should know,” rather insolently retorted Hackert. 

Cadama stared thoughtfully at his gloved hands for 
several moments in silence, then said : 

“ All sorts of thoughts come to me, and some of them 
are not exactly comforting. According to your story, 
Baron Von Menken was your uncle’s most intimate 
friend. He it was who was in the colonel’s apartments 
the night the safe was broken open. Beyond a doubt 
the safe contained papers relating to the exchange of 
infants.” Cadama gazed at the student through his 
half-closed lids before adding ; “ Doesn’t it look as if 

Menken — to whom the colonel may have confided the 
secret of Lucia’s birth — had purloined those papers ?” 

Hackert shook his head negatively. 

“ I don’t think so. Are you led to draw this conclu- 
sion from the friendship between Menken and the com- 
missioner ?” he asked. 

“ I am. If Menken, whom you call a police-spy, had 
not, through his intimacy with Von Holgen, understood 
how to conduct the matter, the mystery of the so-called 
burglary would have been solved ere this.” 

“ Then you really believe that Menken stole those 
papers, and that the police know it ?” 

“ I don’t think it impossible.” 

“ The clever rogue is capable of anything. We must 
keep a close watch on him.” 


218 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ That is the last thing we must do,” returned 
Cadama. “ We must find out if he has the documents, 
and if he has, steal them from him.” 

“ Capital ! You are a shrewd chap, Cadama. I 
should like to hear how you are going to manage it ?” 

“ With Francisco’s help, most likely. I shall have to 
think over the matter.” 

“ Suppose the baron has no telltale documents ?” after 
a moment’s pause suggested the student. 

“Then General Von Hilgersdorf’s papers will be of 
greater use to us,” briefly responded Cadama. 

A few minutes later they arrived at the Potsdam 
gate, where Hackert alighted, and betook himself to a 
wine-shop, where he might drown his disappointment 
at losing the wager he had made with Assessor Prings- 
burg. 

Cadama drove to his lodgings, where he flung him- 
self on the sofa. He was out of humor. Matters were 
not adjusting themselves as he had hoped and expected. 
He encountered on every side unforeseen difficulties and 
hindrances. 

He had lain thus for perhaps an hour or less, when a 
hesitating knock at the door interrupted his meditations. 

In reply to his “Enter !” Francisco opened the door. 

“ You desired to speak to me, signor ; I am here,” he 
said in his native tongue, as he crossed the threshold 
with evident reluctance. 

The attorney, who had not risen from his sofa, pointed 
to a chair. 

“ Sit down, my son, and answer a few questions. I 
dare say you have not forgotten the robbery which was 
committed in the Palazzo Borghese about a year ago ?” 

The little campagnole trembled. 

“ No, signor, I have not forgotten,” he replied, in a 
low voice. 


THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


219 


" Give me the names of the thieves who stole from 
the coin-cabinet the rarest and most valuable specimens 
it contained. 

The perspiration started to the brow of the tortured 
lad. That it cost him a severe struggle to reply was 
evident. 

“ Achillo Bonzano, Pietro Cortes, Oreste Chiavoni 
and — ” 

“ Well — and ?” demanded Cadama, fixing his pitiless 
eyes on the hesitating lad. 

“ And myself,” concluded Francisco, with a sigh that 
sounded like a sob. His face was flushed with deep 
crimson, his eyes were cast on the floor. 

“ Yes, Francisco Boccani was the last name in the 
list of the cunning thieves,” continued the attorney. 
“ You would have been sentenced to prison for many 
years had I not interposed and saved you from such 
degradation. Had I not used my powerful influence in 
your behalf, my boy, you would now be plucking wool 
in the prison halls of Caserta, or dragging a ball and 
chain on the walls of Arcona. I stretched out my hand 
to save you that the name of your honest mother might 
not be branded with your infamy.” 

“ My mother — my poor mother !” sobbed Francisco, 
burying his face in his hands. From between the 
brown fingers, work-hardened, yet slender and shapely, 
ran bright tears which dropped on the dark-blue cloth 
of his livery. His chest rose and fell under the con- 
vulsive sobs which rent his slim frame. 

Without pity — nay, with a certain triumph, Cadama 
watched his youthful countryman. It would not be 
difficult to govern this weak-hearted lad. 

“ I don’t want to grieve you unnecessarily, my dear 
child,” resumed the attorney, in a fatherly tone ; “but 
I am forced to remind you that your fate, your future 


220 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


is in my hands, that you owe gratitude to me alone 
that I alone am able to shield you from punishment. 
It would go hard with you were I to go before a Roman 
tribunal, and, holding in my right hand five gold coins, 
say ; ‘ Here are the long-lost coins, and the name of the 
thief who stole them is — ’ ” 

Francisco’s hot hand was suddenly laid against the 
cruel lips, and the boy’s tones of anguish cried ; 

“ Cease — cease, signor. For the love of heaven, cease ! 
I know what you would say. Ask of me what you will, 
I am ready to do your bidding.” 

“ That is my brave boy ! That is the way I like to 
hear you talk !” approved the attorney. “ Always re- 
member, Francisco, that my cause is yours — that my 
interests are yours — ” 

Ah !” with sudden fervor interrupted the lad, “ how 
gladly would I renounce all my interests, signor., could 
I kneel but once at Lucia’s feet and tell her that I, her 
brother, am working basely hand in hand with her 
enemies. Could I say to her but once : ‘ Beware, my 
dear sister !’ ” 

“ What sort of nonsense are you talking, boy ?” ex- 
claimed Cadama, his face darkening. “ Do you imagine 
that Lucia would be delighted to learn that she was 
sister to a common thief? Sooner or later she will 
hear this agreeable fact ; but until that time, my boy, 
I trust you will keep the knowledge to yourself. Should 
you dare to disobey me I will certainly authorize your 
arrest by the police here. But, let us drop the subject. 
You recognize the cross-roads on which you stand — 
one leads to gold, the other to prison ! Are you 
acquainted with Baron Von Menken ?” 

“Yes,” scarcely above his breath, replied the lad, 
“ the baron is a visitor at my master’s house.” 

“ Ah !” Cadama tranquilly prepared a cigarette 


THE CAMPAGNOLE. 


231 


while speaking. “ I want you to attend to what I say, 
Francisco, for of all the commissions you have per- 
formed for me, the one I am going to give you is the 
most important. You must manage somehow to enter 
Baron Von Menken’s service — ” 

' “ Pardon, signor, for interrupting you,” exclaimed 
the lad. the flush dying out of his face and leaving it 
• pale ; “ but — but, would it not look strange were I to 
change situations so soon again ?” 

“ It must be your part to avoid anything remarkable,” 
sternly responded Cadama. “ You are a clever lad, and 
will know how to accomplish what I desire. I know 
very well why you wish to remain with the counselor,” 
he added in a significant tone ; “ but there are times 
when you must not be allowed to yield to the prompt- 
ings of affection. I shall leave it to your cunning to 
find the shortest way into the baron’s service.” 

“ And what am I to do when I have accomplished 
it ?” in a low tone questioned the lad. 

“ You will receive the necessary instructions at the 
proper time. I may want nothing more than a few 
papers which are in the baron’s possession.” 

Francisco started and looked anxiously at the at- 
torney. 

“ Am I — am I to steal them ?” he gasped with pallid 
lips. 

“ Call it so if you will,” coldly responded the signor. 

Francisco sprang to his feet, drew his slender form 
to its full height, and fixing his dark eyes on the face 
of his tormentor, said in a tone that betrayed his ex- 
citement ; ^ 

“ I am in your power. Signor Cadama, but your 
authority over me is at an end. An unlucky chance 
made me an unwilling accessory to a crime, and made 
you acquainted with the fact, since which time you 


222 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


have not ceased persecuting me. To escape a degrad- 
ing punishment I became your tool ; at your dictation 
I wrote letters to extort money from a generous man ; 
at your command crushed every brotherl)’ feeling out 
of my heart. But now, it is enough. I will not com- 
mit a theft in order that I may escape the threatened 
punishment for a crime I did not commit.” 

The signor had also risen from his sofa. He leaned . 
with folded arms against the table, and with a malig- 
nant smile on his thin lips surveyed the excited lad for 
several moments before-speaking. 

“Your language, my good youth, is that of a stage 
hero,” he said in a sneering tone. “ One can see, qiiite 
plainly, that you have cleansed lamps in the Teatro 
della Valle. Dramatic pathos is wasted on me, boy ; 
moreover, it is useless for you to rebel against my 
authority. I repeat what I said before : You must 
enter Baron Von Menken’s service. If you have not 
accomplished it before Christmas, a police escort will 
conduct you across the Swiss boundary to the Roman 
prison cell which is waiting for you. You may go 
now.” 

Without another word the lad turned and quitted the 
room. Cadama shook his fist after him and hissed ; 

“ Have a care, insolent fellow !” 

Outside the door Francisco halted an instant to lift 
his clenched hand threateningly and mutter through 
his closed teeth : 

“ Have a care, you merciless villain !” 




CHAPTER XVII. 

HERR WYRENBERG. 

Universal approbation was showered on Elimar Wal- 
dau’s picture, which had been on exhibition for a fort- 
night in Gurlitt’s SiVt-salons. Its rather singular title, 
“ Kerkerivonne," had aided somewhat in attracting the 
novelty-seeking throng ; the subject, however, was any- 
thing but sensational. The idea was extremely simple. 
A yoiing wife brings a pardon to the cell of her hus- 
band who is a political prisoner. The costumes are of 
the period of the Polish insurrection. 

The enthusiastic admiration of the work made the 
severe criticism of it, which appeared in Herr Rahlou’s 
journal, all the more noticeable. It was filled with 
fault-finding, and contained spite and malice in every 
line. 

While those of Waldau’s fellow-craftsmen who were 
friendly toward him shrugged their shoulders over the 
venomous review, and his enemies rubbed their hands 
in delight, the public, whose interest and curiosity had 
been augmented by the criticism, flocked in greater 
crowds to Gurlitt’s to view the much-talked-of picture. 

Of course Waldau had seen the criticism. It had 
been pointed out to him by “ Still-Life ” Eugene, of 

[223] 


224 


Invisible hands. 


whose work a laudatory notice appeared in the same 
paper. 

“ Its a nasty bit of spite !” exclaimed Blenkner, feign- 
ing- great indignation. “ A piece of unparalleled malice ! 
Rahlou ought to be ashamed of himself. I dare say it 
is his mode of avenging the slap in the face you gave 
him last winter ! But it is a base revenge. He might 
have kept his praises of my last ‘ still-life,’ which has 
met with great success, by the way. I don’t want 
them after his shabby treatment of you. My poor 
friend, what an unfortunate review it is for your ex- 
hibition picture ! I shouldn’t be at all surprised if 
it would have an unfavorable effect upon the hanging 
committee ; indeed, they may exclude the picture alto- 
gether from the exhibition ! That would be dreadful !” 

Elimar smiled. He was sufficiently acquainted with 
his colleague to know how to take this pretended 
sympathy. 

“ I may forestall the committee, and decide myself 
not to have the picture hung,” he returned calmly. “ I 
have had an offer for it.” 

“ An offer ? Already !” ejaculated Blenkner. “ Why, 
the picture has been at Gurlitt’s only a few days.” 

“That is true, but the would-be purchaser has man- 
aged to find it, all the same. I have just received a 
note from Herr Gurlitt, who tells me that ten thousand 
marks have been offered for my ‘ Kcrkerwonne.' As 
that is almost twice as much as I intended asking for it, 
I should be a fool not to take it.” 

Blenkner almost staggered. What a lucky fellow 
was Waldau ! Ten thousand marks for a mere daub ! 
A sum that very few of the most celebrated painters 
could command for a work, offered to this young, un- 
known paint-waster ! It was enough to drive a man 
crazy ! 



VVEDELL ALONE FoUNl. FAULT WITH HIM.-, See Page 23;'. 










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HERR WYRENBERG, 


225 


Blenkner was a trifle paler than usual as he congrat- 
ulated his fellow-artist. 

“You deserve your good luck, old man,” he observed, 
“ and I congratulate you with all my heart.” 

He shook Waldau warmly by the hand, then betook 
himself at once to Rahlou’s sanctum, where he gave vent 
to his astonishment and disgust at the “ execrable taste 
for false art ” of the general public. 

Waldau had told the truth. A wealthy patron, whose 
name was unknown to him, had actually offered ten 
thousand marks for the “ Kerkerwonne” The young 
artist did not hesitate to accept the liberal offer, but 
stipulated that the purchaser should allow the picture, 
in case it met the approval of the judges, to be hung 
for several days at the art exhibition. 

It was Waldau’s birthday, and a number of his friends 
and acquaintances were assembled in his rooms to cele- 
brate the event. Among the company were Counselor 
Dreyfuss and Herr Yon Menken. The majority of the 
guests were already known to the baron, who, however, 
was more interested in a stranger who had been intro- 
duced to him as Herr Wyrenberg. 

It was not the celebrity of Herr Wyrenberg’s name — 
he was a celebrated Viennese artist — which interested 
Menken ; but it recalled the last hours of his friend. 
Colonel Von Hackert. Wyrenberg was the name of 
the artist who had been with Hackert and General Von 
Hilgersdorf, in the little Tessin hamlet which held the 
secret of Lucia’s birth. 

After the bountiful supper which old Susanne had 
prepared for her master’s guests, Menken succeeded in 
drawing Herr Wyrenberg into a corner of the studio 
where they might con\nerse without being disturbed. 

“ By the way, Herr Wyrenberg,” carelessly observed 
the baron, after a few casual remarks had been ex- 


226 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


changed, “ I used to hear a dear friend, now deceased, 
speak of you. Do you remember Baron Von Hackert- 
Selchern ?” 

“ Hackert-Selchern ?” repeated the artist. “Yes, cer- 
tainly he was a friend of Captain — afterward General 
Von Hilgersdorf. Yes, I remember ; we three were 
together, in ’59, in a little village in Licino. Hackert’s 
wife died , there. Yes, yes, I remember him quite dis- 
tinctly now. Hilgersdorf and I had quite an adventure 
— if I may so call it — at that time. A pretty vivaiidi^re, 
who had once posed as model for me, gave birth to a 
child in the vine-dresser’s cottage in which we also 
had lodgings. The poor woman was penniless, so we 
did what we could to help her financially. We met 
the little woman again later, when we were in camp on 
the battlefield, where she posed for me a second time 
for a picture I painted for Hilgersdorf. Ah, those 
were merry days, baron ; and now — vion Dieu ! — now I 
am old and gray !’’ 

“ Not yet too old to recall the days of your youth,” 
smilingly supplemented Menken. “ Hilgersdorf pre- 
ceded Hackert to the grave. He was an original 
character.” 

“Yes; and a wild fellow when I first became ac- 
quainted with him,” responded the artist. “ He was a 
thorough soldier — perhaps that the only redeeming 
feature of his character, for cards, wine and women 
ruled him wholly — nothing else possessed any attrac- 
tion for him. I think he entertained a sort of penchant 
for our little protegee, the pretty vivandiere. Yes, he 
was a veritable Don Juan.” 

“ I dare say he had become acquainted with the little 
camp beauty before she came to the vine-dresser’s 
cottage ?” 

Menken hid his eagerness to hear the artist’s reply 


HERR WYRENBERG. 


227 


behind the burning match which he held to a fresh 
cigar. 

“ No — ah, no !” responded Herr Wyrenberg. “ He 
saw her for the first time the day she was brought to 
the village. How well I remember the occasion ! It 
was raining fearfully — a genuine Italian downpour — 
when the little cart stopped at the vine-dresser’s 
cottage and Carmella — that was her name — alighted. 
Hilgersdorf, who was sitting with me in my room, fell 
in love at once with her pretty face ; but any hopes He 
may have entertained were not realized, for the little 
Carmella was as reserved and haughty as a dame of 
high degree, and could look at one in a way that taught 
one to treat her with proper respect. Later, when I 
met her again in camp, I heard all about her character. 
She was a perfectly respectable, chaste and honest little 
woman.” . 

Menken bent his face over his cup of fragrant Mocha. 
How glad he was to hear these words from the aged 
artist, who resumed after he had emptied his cup : 

“ I admired Herr Von Hackert very much. He was 
a charming companion — a gentleman from crown to 
sole ! He, too, was very kind to Carmella in her hour 
of need, I can see him now as he looked the day he 
came to the cottage with the huge hamper of clothes, 
which his sick wife had sent to Carmella and her baby. 
Hackert’s wife died in giving birth to a little daughter.” 

“ Yes, so I heard,” assented the baron. “ I was not 
acquainted with the baroness, who was said to be a 
great beauty. If, as they say, her daughter resembles 
her, then she must, indeed, have been very beautiful.” 

Herr Wyrenberg took the liqueur glass of Chartreuse 
which a servant at that moment presented, then said ; 

“ I was at Frau Von Hackert’s funeral. It was the 
most impressive entombment I ever witnessed. The 


228 


INVISIBLE HANDS, 


baroness was a Roman Catholic, consequently her wish 
to be buried in the little Tessin graveyard was fulfilled 
without difficulty. Perhaps the enchanting spring day 
and the picturesque surroundings had much to do with 
the impressiveness of the ceremony, but I shall never 
forget it — never ! Just imagine an ancient, weather- 
beaten chapel with moss-grown belfry, lying deep in a 
peaceful valley ; all about it crumbling tombs shaded 
by cypress, laurel and olive-trees. Close by the wall 
which encloses the churchyard the murmuring Tessin, 
and beyond the snow-crowned mountains gleaming in 
the sunlight. Oh, I can assure you, baron, that the 
dead lady had willed wisely when she chose to be 
buried underneath the cypresses by the Tessin, instead 
of in our cold North, in one of the modern, shadeless 
cemeteries ! That was the landscape,” he went on, 
after a moment’s pause. “ Now for the figures : Herr 
Von Hackert and his friend, Hilgersdorf, who followed 
the bier, were in uniform — probably the first time the 
Prussian helmet had appeared on the banks of the 
russet-hued Ticino. The entire village — young and old 
— formed the procession which followed the coffins. I 
say coffins, because the vivandiere' s baby, which had 
died shortly after its birth, was buried at the same time 
with the baroness. Side by side the two coffins were 
lowered into the earth — the aristocrat and the beggar 
— to slumber side by side underneath the same cypress, 
which, in the season of storm, would fling its dark-green 
leaves alike on the two graves. The village-school 
children sang a hymn ; then the aged priest delivered 
the funeral sermon. While he was speaking one of 
those sudden thunder-storms of the South came swiftly 
across the sky. The lightning flashed ; thunder rever- 
berated through the valley, and threatening sulphur- 
hued clouds hung low over our heads ; but not a drop 


HERR WYRENBERG. 


239 


of rain fell to interrupt the ceremony at the grave. It 
was solemnly beautiful. Hilgersdorf and I often talked 
about it afterward.” 

Menken, who had listened attentively to the artist’s 
interesting recital, now asked : 

“ Were you and Hilgersdorf the only lodgers in the 
vine-dresser’s cottage ?” 

“ Yes. There would not have been room for a third. 

When the little vivandiere came one of us had to give 
up our room for her use. A man, you know, will suffer 
any inconvenience to please a pretty woman ! Herr Von 
Hackert and his wife occupied a villa at the end of the 
village.'’ 

“ Are you sure there waati’t a third sojourner in the 
village ?” questioned Menken. “ I seem to remember 
hearing my friend Hackert speak of a young Roman 
attorney whom he met in Tessin, or somewhere in that 
neighborhood.” 

“ Notin Tessin, certainly,” confidently rejoined Herr 
Wyrenberg. “ There were no strangers in the village 
but ourselves.” He rose and added : “ I want to take 
a look at some of our gifted young friend’s work. Per- 
haps I may find something to take with me as a re- 
membrance of him.” 

The evening passed pleasantly. Counselor Dreyfuss 
was, as usual when Frau Therese’s reproachful eyes 
were not on him, the life of the company. Toward the 
close of the evening, however, he had retired to a se- 
cluded corner to refresh himself with a brief nap, 
when, just as he was losing consciousness, a voice cried 
in his ear, and a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder : 

“ Counselor, counselor ! Come, wake up, we want 
you to join a wager. You know Mutabor, the brute 
that threw me into the mire ?” 

“ Yes, yes,” returned Herr Dreyfuss, blinking drows- 


230 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


ily at the disturber of his rest. “ What’s the matter ? 
What did you say ? I don’t hear very well. I’m getting 
old.” 

“ Getting old ?” smilingly repeated Baron Von Men- 
ken. “ Shame on you, counselor ! Who would admit 
that epicures like ourselves ever get old ?” 

“ I take it back. I take it back, baron. But what is 
the matter ?” 

“We are going to have a wager with Baron Von 
Menken,” explained Lieutenant Von Wedell, “ and we 
want you to join us. You know Mutabor, the skittish 
beast I bought from Count Kieselberg, and can’t ride 
because he has been so terribly chafed by the bit ?” 

“ He’s a beauty, though,” observed Dreyfuss. “Limbs 
like steel and a chest of iron — ” 

“ Of what use are admirable points if I can’t manage 
the beast ?” interposed Von Wedell. “ It is utterly im- 
possible to ride him.” 

“ I say it is not impossible,” said Menken. “ Our 
wager is this, Dreyfuss : / contend that Mutabor is 

an excellent riding horse if one knows how to manage 
him. Neither Kieselberg nor our 'friend here- under- 
stands how to do that.” 

“ Thanks for the compliment,” retorted Mutabor’s 
owner. “We shall see who will win the wager. Baron 
Menken,” he continued, turning toward Herr Dreyfuss, 
“ has taken four bets that your little Francisco can 
shame us all by managing the horse as easily as if 
Mutabor were a trained poodle. What say you ?” 

“ That is rather a bold declaration,” slowly replied 
Dreyfuss. “/ think Mutabor needs a much heavier 
rider than a feather-weight like Francisco.” 

General approval greeted this decision, as the coun- 
selor was known to be a judge of horses. Menken, 
however, shook his head, and said ; 


HERR WYRENBERG, 


231 


“ I am sorry to disagree with you, my dear counselor, 
but I insist that I am right.” 

“ Take his bet, counselor — take his bet !” cried the 
lieutenant, swinging his eyeglasses by their cord 
around his head. “ The baron must be punished for 
his obstinacy.” 

“ I will take any bets that are offered,” said Menken, 
“ though I must confess it will be taking advantage of 
you, for I am sure to win. Allow me to make a propo- 
sition ?” 

“ Go ahead ! Go ahead !” cried several voices. 

“ Thanks. I propose that, if the counselor loses, he 
must let me have his Francisco to take the place of my 
infirm jockey, Thompson. If I lose, then I will give 
five hundred marks for a champagne supper, to which 
all here present shall be invited.” 

Uproarious applause followed this proposition ; a 
wine-glass was dashed on the floor, and a young, rather 
overheated portrait-painter mounted a chair to toast 
Baron Von Menken, the counselor, Wedell, Mutabor, 
Francisco and a dozen more. 

“Silence! Silence!” at last roared Herr Dreyfuss. 
“ I want to say that I take Herr Von Menken’s bet.” 

“ Francisco will win,” said Menken later, when all 
but he had taken leave of the host of the evening ; “ then 
we shall have the lad in our power. Mutabor is an 
excellent animal, only a little ticklish in the back. 
That is why Wedell cannot manage him. Francisco is 
light, and active as a squirrel. Not long ago he 
brought a message to me on the race-course, and I 
allowed him to trot Tollkopf several times around 
the track. I convinced myself then that he knew how 
to manage a horse. But I waited until they had all 
gone, because I want to talk to you about my conver- 
sation with Herr Wyrenberg. What he told me proves 


232 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


that Cadama is a thorough scoundrel. Although 
Colonel Hackert assured me that Carmella, Hilgersdorf 
and himself were the only persons who knew of the ex- 
change of infants, yet, after reading Cadama’s forged 
attestation, I feared he, too, might have been in the 
Tessin village at that time. Herr Wyrenberg, however, 
also assured me that no strangers were there but him- 
self, Hackert, Hilgersdorf and Carmella. That he does 
not in the least suspect a secret in the Hackert family 
I am convinced by his manner. Should Cadama really 
attempt to foist his false attestation on a court of just- 
ice, we shall have in Wyrenberg a valuable witness. I 
was greatly relieved to hear the artist’s favorable 
opinion of Carmella’s character, though it would be a 
psychological riddle had Lucia’s mother been a worth- 
less woman. Dreyfuss tells me that Francisco cherishes 
an idolatrous love for his deceased mother. Wyren- 
berg describes her as chaste and honorable, and this 
agrees with what I have managed, with the assistance 
of the German consul in Rome, to learn about her. 
Carmella became a vivandiere to save herself from dis- 
honor. 

“ Hilgersdorf, who was a well-known roui, was not 
acquainted with her before he saw her in the Tessin 
village. You know, Elimar, why I feared that he had 
been. I read those passages to you from my diary, 
wherein I recorded the singular meeting between Car- 
mella and Hilgersdorf in the mess-tent at Podol, in '66. 
I think now that the reason she came to the German 
camp, she wanted some news of her child, and knowing 
Hilgersdorf and Hackert to be Prussian officers, her 
mother’s heart prompted her to seek them. I wish I 
had been convinced of this earlier,” he added, with a 
sigh. “ Never dreaming that Hackert’s life hung by a 
thread, I was imprudent enough to confide to him, on 


HERR WYRENBERG. 


233 


that last fatal day, my suspicion that Hilgersdorf was 
Lucia’s father. The idea excited him so fearfully that — 
I shall never cease to blame myself for mentioning it — 
I believe it hastened his death. How glad I am that 
my — ” he paused abruptly and bit his lip, then added, 
with some confusion — “ that Lucia is not the daughter 
of that brutal, evil-minded Hilgersdorf I cannot tell you. 
But it is late, and time for me to be thinking of going. 
God grant that Cadama’s plans may miscarry before 
Lucia learns that she is not the daughter of the man 
whom she revered above all beings on earth. If I win my 
bet, and Francisco comes to me, I think I can manage 
to get a confession from him. Then I need hesitate no 
longer to arrest that Italian knave Cadama. To the 
fulfillment of my project Elimar, let us empty a part- 
ing glass.” 






CHAPTER XVIII. 

MUTABOR. 

On the morning after the birthday festivities in 
Elimar Waldau’s apartments, the gentlemen, taking 
part in the wager concerning the horse, Mutabor, met 
in a private riding-academy in the suburbs of the city, 

Francisco, who was also present, had grown pale 
when the counselor told him of the wager with Baron 
Von Menken, The lad remembered his last conversa- 
tion with Signor Cadama, and the command to enter 
the baron’s service. Was it merely chance that prom- 
ised to aid him in obeying the signor's command ? 

Francisco admired Baron Von Menken, who always 
treated him kindly ; and he would hardly have hesi- 
tated to leave Herr Dreyfuss’s service had it not been 
that Lucia von Hackert was a frequent visitor at the 
counselor’s. The poor lad had a hard struggle between 
fear of Cadama and love for his sister ; but the signor's 
threats at last forced him to silence the voice of his 
heart. 

With the jockey’s costume, he had donned for the 
occasion, the old desire to speed along the race-course 
returned to Francisco’s breast. Menken was right : 
“ He who was once triumphant on the track, for him 
the saddle was a throne of roses !” Francisco was de- 
[234] 


MUTABOR. 


235 


lighted at the prospect of a mount on the refractory 
Mutabor. ' 

All eyes were directed toward the little jockey when 
he entered the academy. 

“ A famous lad !” observed Lieutenant Markwitz to 
Lieutenant Von Wedell, who would have been better 
satisfied if the “ famous lad ” had not looked quite so 
capable of riding the fractious Mutabor. 

“ One moment, my dear boy,” whispered Baron Von 
Menken to Francisco. “ Don’t be in the least afraid of 
Mutabor. He is an excellent beast, but tender-mouthed 
add ticklish. Sit well forward and keep a slack rein, 
and all will go well. Above all, be extremely careful 
in mounting not to startle the beast.” 

Francisco nodded understandingly. The gates were 
opened, and Mutabor, led by a groom, entered the ring. 

Mutabor was a noble specimen of horse flesh — stately, 
of perfect form ; with a graceful neck, daintily molded 
limbs and feet, nervous and muscular. But the restive 
tossing of the head, the nervous force, the slight 
quivering of the flanks told at a glance of improper 
management and training. 

The spectators assembled in the ring formed a half- 
circle about the horse. The majority were loud in 
their praises of his beauty. Wedell alone found fault 
with him. 

“ You will see,” he assured his friends, “ of what use 
such beauty is in a horse — he is like a lovely woman 
who has no character.” 

The young portrait painter, who had been so ex- 
travagantly merry the preceding evening, affected to 
object to a simile so disrespectful to the fair sex. While 
he was remonstrating with the lieutenant, Francisco 
approached the horse, took the reins carefully from the 
hands of the groom, stroked the glossy neck for several 


236 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


seconds, then with a sudden agile movement leaped to 
the saddle. 

Before Mutabor could recover from his astonishment 
at this sudden coup, Francisco, with knees firmly press- 
ing the panting sides, his body leaning forward, the 
reins held loosely in his hand, urged the horse forward. 
But Mutabor obstinately refused to obey. He stamped 
angrily with his forefeet, pricked up his ears, and 
snorted his resentment. Then the spurs were applied 
very gently. Mutabor made a sudden spring that 
scattered the spectators in all directions, galloped fur- 
iously a short distance, then fell into a irregular trot. 
Gradually, however, his pace became quieter and more 
even until at last it was as easy and regular as the most 
timid rider could desire. 

“ Bravo ! Bravo !” applauded the lieutenant. “That’s 
a gait no one could find fault with ! One — two. One 
— two — regular as a parade march !” 

Herr Dreyfuss was also astonished, and could not 
say enough in praise of his little groom’s accomplish- 
ments. 

“You have won, Herr Von Menken,” he called to 
the baron, who was leaning against a post near the en- 
trance, a smile lighting his grave features. 

“By Jove, now I’ll try it again!” exclaimed Von 
Wedell suddenly. “ I can’t see why I should not be 
able to ride the beast as well as that little jockey.” 

He beckoned to Francisco, who trotted up and dis- 
mounted. The lieutenant took the reins, laid his hand 
on the saddle and was about to vault to the horse’s 
back when Mutabor suddenly kicked out with both 
hind feet. 

A sharp cry of pain rang through the building ; 
several men dashed toward the frantic horse, others 
ran toward the lieutenant who was rising from the 


MUTABOR. 


237 


sawdust, while still others gathered about Francisco 
who had been struck by Mutabor’s hoofs, and lay with 
closed eyes on the ground. 

The first to reach Francisco was Baron Von Menken, 
who raised the unconscious lad’s head and tore open 
his jaunty blouse, blood trickling from his pale lips as 
he did so. Mutabor had given him a fearful blow on 
the breast. The livid wound was a horrifying sight, 
and Menken groaned when he saw it. General con- 
fusion now ensued. Lieutenant Von Wedell cursed 
and stormed and threatened to shoot Mutabor, the 
counselor dispatched three grooms for as many doctors, 
Waldau sent for cologne, water and brandy, while the 
majority of the excited spectators stood or ran help- 
lessly about inquiring what they should do. 

“ The injury is a serious one,” said the baron to 
Waldau, as the two bent over the lad. I shall re- 
move him at once to my apartments. Do you hasten 
to Doctor Nobbser and beg him to com'e as quickly as 
possible.” 

He gently lifted the seemingly lifeless body of the 
injured lad and carried him to his carriage which was 
waiting at the door of the academy. 

“ Mother of Moses !” groaned Janisch, who was seated 
on the box. “ Another unfortunate !” 

The counselor now hurried up. 

“ Hadn’t we better take him to my house ?” he a.sked, 
out of breath. “ He has his own room there, and will 
be well cared for !” 

Haven’t I won him ?” responded Menken, smiling 
sadly. “ From this hour I am responsible for the lad’s 
welfare.” 

Herr Dreyfuss replied with a shrug, and the carriage 
rolled away toward Baron Von Menken’s residence, 
where the injured lad was carefully laid on a bed. 


238 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Soon afterward Herr Waldau arrived with the doctor, 
whose cheerful countenance became very g-rave when 
he beheld the terrible wound in the lad’s breast. 

“ It is a very serious injury,” he observed, after he 
had examined the wound. “ I cannot tell yet whether 
there are internal injuries. I hope not ! The lad is 
vigorous and healthy, and has a breast of iron. Nature 
will, therefore, be of great assistance in restoring him.” 
******* 

It was yet quite early the next morning when Signor 
Cadama’s card was brought to Baron Von Menken. 

“ A singular chance, baron, has led you to act the 
good Samaritan to two sons of Italy,” began the sigjior 
effusively, on entering Herr Von Menken’s sitting- 
room. “ Heaven, I am sure, will reward you for 
your — ” 

“ Pray spare me all fine speeches, signor ^ interrupted 
the baron. “ I am not a lover of flattery. Can I be of 
any service to you ? Or to what do I owe this early 
call ?” 

The baron’s curt tone and evidently intentional neg- 
lect to offer his visitor a chair offended the attorney, 
who swallowed his resentment, however, and said 
pleasantly : 

“ I heard by chance yesterday evening that Francisco 
Pedretti, who is a little acquaintance of mine, had been 
fatally injured and taken to your hospitable roof, baron. 
I came this morning to ask how it is with the poor lad. 
Not so bad as is reported, I trust ?” 

“ On the contrary, signor, there are hopes that he will 
very soon be restored to health,” replied Menken. 
“ The horse’s hoofs struck the lad’s breast-bone, but, 
fortunately, did not .break it. There is a severe flesh- 
wound, which may result in inflammation. I trust not, 
however, and believe that Francisco will be out again 


MUTABOR. 


239 


in a fortnight, or three weeks at the latest. He will be 
pleased to hear that a fellow-countryman has been good 
enough to inquire about him. Shall I tell him you left 
your good wishes for him ?” 

Cadama seemed to deliberate a moment before 
replying ; 

“ Perhaps he will more easily remember me if I leave 
my name.” He drew the note-book — so familiar to the 
baron — from his pocket, took from it a card, hastily 
penciled a couple of words on it and handed it to Herr 
Von Menken. “ May I trouble you to give him that ?” 

The baron bowed stiffly, and the signor^ after a defer- 
ential courtesy, quitted the room. 

******* 

Francisco’s recovery was not so rapid as the baron 
had at first believed it would be, but he grew steadily, 
if slowly, better. The youthful campagnole possessed 
a tough constitution. Despite his effeminate appear- 
ance, he was muscular and hardy as a North American 
trapper. He had breathed, without injury to his 
health, the malarial vapors of the Campagna ; had often 
enough, without suffering for it afterward, slept with- 
out covering in the cold fogs of an autumnal night, on 
the marble steps of a church in Rome. Such exposure, 
instead of injuring, had hardened him and rendered 
him capable of endurance. 

In less than eight days after the accident, the lad’s 
pulse again beat regularly, and all fears of a relapse 
were at an end. The doctor, however, fearing that the 
lungs might have been weakened, and knowing the lad 
to be unused to the stormy weather of our northern 
winters, advised the baron to take him back to Italy. 

To Menken such an arrangement was not unpleasant. 
Counselor Dreyfuss had told him that he intended tak- 
ing his wife to some quiet place in northern Italy, 


240 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


■where Annie Doring would join them. Lucia von 
Hackert also had decided to accompany Herr Dreyfuss 
and his wife on their transalpine journey. 

To restore Francisco’s health was not the only reason 
why Baron Von Menken decided on a pilgrimage to the 
Riviera. He hoped, while on the shore of the Mediter- 
ranean, to learn something about the earlier life of 
Carmella Boccani. 

Fearing that all disagreeable recollections might re- 
tard Francisco’s recovery — and there was reason to be- 
lieve that Cadama would arouse in the lad’s mind 
recollections which would be anything but agreeable — 
the baron had not yet mentioned the signor's visit. 
Now, however, he believed he might venture a first at- 
tempt at “ converting ” the little campagnole. Fran- 
cisco was only a servant, but the baron had watched 
over him with a father’s care ; had treated him as ten- 
derly as he would have an equal or a near and dear 
kinsman. 

Francisco had received his master’s attentions with 
gratitude, and more than once had warmly thanked 
him. But the baron wanted something more. 

It was the beginning of the twilight hour when Herr 
Von Menken entered the sick-room. Francisco was 
lying among the pillows, with closed eyes. He opened 
them and smiled an affectionate greeting when he saw 
the baron. 

“ I bring you a greeting from a Roman acquaintance, 
my lad,” said Menken, seating himself beside the bed. 
“ The man called to inquire about you, and left this 
card.” 

Francisco seized the card. A sudden spasm convulsed 
his pale face when he read what was written on it. He 
closed his eyes again, turned his head on the pillow and 
muttered ; 


MUTABOR. 


241 


“ Bricconi / The heartless villain !” 

• Herr Von Menken took the boy's hot hand in his, and 
bending over him, said : 

“Yes, Francisco, Cadama is a villain. It was not 
friendship for you that brought him here, but fear, lest 
in your gratitude to me, your nurse, you might forget 
yourself and betray him. Don’t agitate yourself, my 
boy. Forget Cadama’s visit, and think only of two 
others, from real friends — Counselor Dreyfuss and — 
your sister.” 

Francisco started violently. Half eagerly, half in 
fear, his eyes rested on the baron’s ^face, while his 
fingers unconsciously closely clasped the hand that held 
his. 

“ From — my sister ?” he whispered. “ Merciful Heaven 
— then you know — ” 

“ Everything, my dear lad, everything,” interposed 
Menken, gently stroking the boy’s damp forehead. “ I 
know ever5Thing, and I now confess to you that I had 
an object in view when I brought you here. I hoped 
to win your gratitude, and through it your confidence. 
When Lucia’s adopted father lay on his death-bed, I 
vowed that I would guard the child whom all the world 
believes to be his own, and who herself believes it, and 
with God’s help I intend to keep that vow. I want 
Lucia’s brother to leave the enemy’s camp and join 
sides with me. Have you no brotherly affection in 
your heart, my lad, that you work with that evil-minded 
scoundrel, Cadama, to ruin your sister ?” 

Francisco hid his face in the pillow. His slight 
frame shook with convulsive sobbing. 

“ Confide in me, Francisco,” continued the baron, 
bending over the weeping lad. “ You have a true 
friend in me. As I have sworn to help Lucia so will I 
help and guard you against your enemies. You shall 


242 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


begin a new life, become a different person, for Lucia’s 
brother must no longer occupy a menial position. Will 
you let me help you ? Will you let me be your true 
friend, Francisco ? Will you confide all your past to 
me in order that I may know how to render harmless 
those who would ruin you soul and body as well as de- 
spoil your sister of her fortune and her name. Speak, 
Francisco, will you let me help you ?” 

Slowly, very slowly, the lad lifted himself from the 
pillow and turned his dusky, tear-stained face toward 
his benefactor. 

“You mean well by me, baron. I feel it,” he said, 
brokenly. “ I know, too, that I may safely tell you 
everything, that I may freely unburden my heart to 
you of all its shame and sorrow. I have done much 
that was wrong. After my dear mother died I lost all 
hope, all desire to do good. I sank lower and lower, 
and the one who thrust me deeper and deeper into dis- 
grace is Cadama — my tormentor, my demon of evil !” 

He paused and breathed heavily. Menken saw that 
he would have to be careful. 

“ Cadama, my dear boy,” he said soothingly, “ has no 
more power over you. You need fear him no longer. 
I intend henceforward to take care of you, from this 
hour you are under my protection — ” 

“ Oh, you don’t know, you don’t know !” excitedly in- 
terrupted Francisco. “ The words on the signor's card 
are a terrifying threat, and he will carry it out if I dis- 
obey his commands. ‘ Ancona ’ is the prison for the 
lowest criminals, and ‘ Caserta,’ the house of correc- 
tion, and Cadama has the power to send me to either 
place, for he knows that I was accused of stealing some 
valuable coins. That I am innocent of the crime I 
swear by the Holy Virgin ! I am innocent — innocent ! 
But who will believe my word against that of Signor 


MUTABOR. 


243 


Cadama ? Even your powerful aid, baron, cannot save 
me from Ancona or Caserta if I disobey the signor." 

“I repeat what I said, Francisco, You need not be 
afraid of Cadama/’ responded Menken assuringly. 
“ He will not dare accuse you, as, by so doing, he 
will dig his own grave ! He threatens you merely to 
intimidate you. He knows well that he himself is in 
danger of prison walls. Believe me, Francisco, Ca- 
dama’s threats are harmless — harmless as air.” 

“Oh, I wish I might believe it !” cried the lad, clasp- 
ing his hands. “ If I could, I would shake off the 
fetters which have bound me so long, and become free 
and honest again ! Come nearer, please, baron, and I 
will tell you everything. After my mother died,” he 
began after a short pause, “ there was no one to care 
for me, and I made my living as best I could. One 
day, after I had been unable to get anything to do for 
nearly a week, a man came to me and told me that an 
artist wished to engage me as a model, and wanted me 
to meet him that evening in front of the Palazzo 
Borghese. I was very glad of the opportunity to earn 
something, and went to the Palazzo as directed, where 
I found the man who had told me about the artist. He 
said the artist was dining in a cafe nearby, and asked 
me to wait in the portico of the palace. 

“ The night was very dark, and it was still darker in 
the arcade under which I stood. I had been there 
about a quarter of an hour, and was beginning to fear 
I had been deceived, when I heard voices whispering 
near me, and before I could turn, two dark forms 
dashed past me into the street. At the same moment 
the bell, which hangs in the portico to summon aid in 
case of any unusual event in the palace, rang, and a 
voice from an upper window called : 

“ ‘ Un ladro ! A thief ! A thief !’ 


244 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ In a trice servants were rushing hither and thither. 
A door was flung open, and a third dark form came 
flying down the steps. As he brushed past me, almost 
throwing me over, I heard the clinking of gold coins, 
and felt something slip into my coat pocket. The 
next instant a rough hand seized my collar, and a loud 
voice called : 

“ ‘ Here ’s one of them ! Where is the guard ?’ 

“ Before I could realize what had happened I was 
hustled into a carriage, a man took his seat beside me, 
and we drove rapidly down the street. 

“ I must have received a blow on the head, for I be- 
came unconscious and knew nothing more. When I 
opened my eyes again I was lying on a leather-covered- 
lounge in a small, plainly furnished room ; and the 
man who had been with me in the carriage — the man 
whose fox-face has persecuted me ever since that hour, 
and who has become the curse and terror of my life — 
was standing, with folded arms, by my side, sharply 
surveying me. When he saw that I had recovered 
consciousness, he said : 

“ ‘ I know you, Francisco Boccani, and am glad that 
chance has brought about this meeting, for I have been 
searching all over Rome for you. Listen : You are 
accused of being an accomplice of the burglars who 
robbed the Palazzo Borghese, and will be convicted if 
it becomes known that you have five valuable coins in 
your pocket. A singular chance enabled me to rescue 
you under the pretense of driving you in my carriage 
to the guard-house. I did not save you out of pity for 
your youth, my lad. I had an object in view. I want 
you to do me a favor — a favor that is neither dishonor- 
able nor dangerous. On the contrary, it will right a 
wrong and bring you riches. Look out of this window. 
Down yonder are two policemen. A word from me 


MUTABOR. 


245 


and they will arrest you, and you pass the remainder 
of this night on the hard boards of a prison bed. Of 
'course, you will deny that you stole the coins, but the 
judges will only smile incredulously and ask how you 
came to have them in your pocket. Think you they 
will believe your story ? The prisoners in Caserta 
pluck wool as do the country-women in winter ; and the 
criminals in Ancona drag foot-chains after them, like 
caged wild beasts. Neither place is a pleasant abode, 
but you will be sent to one of them if those coins are 
found on you.’ 

“ That, baron, is what Signor Cadama said to me, 
and I lay there and ground my teeth and cursed my 
ill-luck. Then I thought over what the signor \idi6. saich 
He wanted a favot from me that was neither dishonor- 
able nor dangerous, but would right a wrong and bring 
me riches. My curiosity conquered. I wanted to 
know what the favor could be. Before he would tell 
me he asked me to sign the paper he took from his 
pocket. It was an attestation in which I acknowledged 
that I had stolen the coins, and I weakly gave it my 
signature, thus yielding myself to the power of that 
devil in human form ! He sent for some wine, and, 
after we had drunk it, he told me why he had searched 
all over Rome for me. It was a wonderful tale, 
and had for its characters my sainted mother and my 
sister Lucia — who I believed had died when she was 
a little baby. I dare say you know the story, baron. 
It was about my sister, who was still living, as the 
daughter of a wealthy Prussian officer, whose own 
child lay in the grave with its mother in a little Ticino 
graveyard. As Lucia had not been legally adopted, 
she was not, of course, so Cadama said, legally justi- 
fied in becoming the heir of Colonel Von Hackert, and 
the signor was going to undertake the cause of the 


246 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


legal heir, in case any injustice might be done — to 
‘right the wrong,’ as he expressed it. When I asked 
him how he had obtained knowledge of the family 
secret, he gave me an evasive reply — ” 

Here the baron interrupted with a question : 

“ Did your mother never tell you that your sister 
was still living ?” 

“ No, baron. On the contrary, she always spoke of 
my sister as having died when she was a little baby.” 

“ Perhaps she told Cadama,” suggested Von Menken. 

“ No, baron, that could not be, for the signor never 
saw my mother.” 

Menken gazed thoughtfully into the soft, gray twi- 
light which was settling over the earth. 

“ This is very puzzling,” he observed, in a musing 
tone. “ A third person familiar with the secret must 
have confided it to the signor. Who could it have been ?” 

“ That is a question 1 often asked myself, baron, until 
one day when I got hold of a clue. The day after the 
burglary at the palace, I read in a newspaper that all 
but one of the thieves had been arrested, the one who 
had escaped having in his possession the coins which 
had been taken from the numismatic collection. That 
one, baron, was myself. In my terror lest I might be 
arrested if I ventured on the street, I remained in hid- 
ing for several days in Signor Cadama’s apartments. 
It was then I discovered the clue I mentioned. The 
signor had given me some little chores to do, and one 
day when I was engaged in destroying the contents of 
the waste-paper basket, my eyes chanced to fall on a 
piece of paper on which were these words : 

“ ‘ San Remo, October, 1880. 

“ ‘ I am very ill, therefore able only to write a line. If you 
want to accomplish your purpose, you must not be in too great a 
hurry. Remember that so long as Hackert lives he can, with a 
few written words, destroy all your plans.’ 


MUTABOR. 


247 


“ All of the signature but three letters, ‘ Hil,’ was 
torn away,” 

“ ‘ Hil,’ ” repeated the baron ; then, with sudden ani- 
mation : “ Hilgersdorf, of course. You are right, my 
lad, it is a clue. But go on with your story. What were 
Cadama’s first demands ?” 

A burning blush of shame covered Francisco’s face. 

“ He asked me to write letters, extorting money, to 
Colonel Von Hackert,” was the hesitating reply. “I 
had an easy life while with the signor, but I cursed in 
secret the evil hour which had given me into his power. 
One day he came to me greatly excited, and told me 
that Colonel Von Hackert was dead, and that he was 
compelled to go at once to Berlin. He said he had se- 
cured a good situation for me in the Gothard Tunnel, 
where I could remain until he sent forme. Soon after- 
ward we both quitted Rome, I under the name of Fran- 
cisco Pedretti, which I had assumed at the signor's 
command. How I came into Signor Boring’s service, 
and through him into that of the counselor, you already 
know, baron. Had I entertained any doubts as to the 
truth of the story Cadama told me aboiit my sister, they 
would have vanished when I heard Signor Boring tell 
his wife how closely I resembled her friend, Lucia von 
Hackert. I knew then that I had a sister, and that I 
loved her, notwithstanding the fact that I had never 
seen her, and was hand in hand with her enemies. I 
have but one more confession to make, baron. A few 
days before Mutabor gave me this painful souvenir, 
Cadama ordered me to seek employment with you. 
How chance aided me to accomplish this, you know.” 

“ Bo you know why Cadama wanted you to enter my 
service ?” inquired the baron, with renewed interest. 

Again the lad’s face was suffused with the hue of 
shame. 


248 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Yes, baron ; I was to keep a close watch on you, 
and steal any documents relating to Lucia’s birth which 
you might have.” 

“ The devil !” ejaculated the baron, excitedly. “ So 
the scoundrel suspects me — suspects, or knows that 
Lucia’s fate is locked in my desk? You forget, most 
worthy signor, that others can plot as well as yourself ! 
And that a Higher Power regulates the world accord- 
ing to His own wise judgment.” Menken rose and 
walked to the window, where he leaned his forehead 
for several seconds against the pane. Then he returned 
to the bedside. “ After all that you have told me, my 
dear Francisco,” he resumed, “ the burglary at the 
Palazzo Borghese seems to me to have been arranged 
simply to enable Signor Cadama to get you into his 
power. However, we need not discuss that now. For 
the time being, you must continue to let Cadama be- 
lieve that you are his tool. He must not be allowed to 
suspect that you have ceased to obey him. As for the 
rest, we may rejoice that everything has turned out 
so well. Let us first thank Heaven, and then 
Mutabor !” 




CHAPTER XIX. 

CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 

Frau Ilona von Hilgersdorf had returned to Berlin, 
more beautiful and fascinating than ever, but the cap- 
ital seemed to have lost its attraction for her. Since 
the scandalous notice in the newspaper, which had con- 
nected her name with that of Herr Waldau, society had 
gradually withdrawn its favor from her. The young 
widow’s eccentricities and her disregard for convention 
had, even before the unfortunate episode with the 
artist, given much food for the gossips ; but she had 
troubled her pretty head very little about what society 
in general said or thought of her. Not until her inti- 
mate acquaintances began to treat her coldly and cease 
to visit her did she awake to the fact that a woman, 
however lovely she may be, cannot with impunity defy 
the opinion of the world. 

A jealous woman whose vanity has been offended, is 
prone to lay the blame for her ill-fortune at the door 
of her rival. Frau Ilona believed nothing less than 
that Lucia von Hackert was the sole cause of the in- 
sulting coldness with which she was treated by her 
former acquaintances. Lucia alone was to blame for 
the hateful stories which had been, and still were told 
about her. Believing this, it was but natural that she 

[249] 


250 


INVISIBLE HADNS. 


should hate her rival, and welcome any chance that 
would enable her to revenge herself. This chance had 
been offered her by Signor Cadama. 

One day the signor, with a large portefolio under 
his arm, made his appearance before Frau Von Hil- 
gersdorf. 

“ First of all, signora," he began, after his usual 
deferential salutation. “ Allow me to tell you that you 
look more beautiful than ever, more sparkling and 
radiant—” 

Ilona’s harsh laugh interrupted him. 

“ Your flattery, signor, is but another proof that a 
man never speaks the truth to my sex. I feel anything 
but sparkling and radiant, as you express it.” 

“ Then you certainly deceive your looks, signora," he 
responded with another low bow. “ But may I ask 
what has happened ? I may be able to help you with 
advice or action !” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf flung herself angrily into the 
corner of the sofa. 

“ I don’t need any one to help me,” she answered 
curtly. “ I am able to endure ill-treatment from nar- 
row-minded Philistines, as I am able to bear the poi- 
sonous slanders of a low-born beggar. I don’t care a 
straw for these strait-laced Berlinese !” 

A satisfied smile played around the signor's thin 
lips, but his tone was gently expostulatory when he 
said : 

“You are excited, signora. You should not let 
trifles annoy you. I can guess that that girl, Lucia — ” 

“ Yes, it is Lucia !” interrupted the widow, her eyes 
flaming. “ She has been telling more lies about me, 
else why does all the world avoid me as if I were poison ? 
Soon after my return to town I left cards with all my 
acquaintances, and, will you believe it, not a single 


CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 


251 


visit has been returned ! What has happened, I ask 
myself ? What can have happened, but that Lucia, the 
malicious creature, has been telling all sorts of vile 
tales about me.” 

The Italian’s face expressed deepest sympathy, 
while in his heart he rejoiced that he had called at so 
opportune a moment. 

“ I am afraid it is too true, signora," he returned, 
shaking his head sadly. “ You know why the girl dis- 
likes and tries to injure you. But, I ask you, is it worth 
while to anger yourself over any tales such a creature 
may invent ? No — no, indeed ! It will not be long be- 
fore the so-called Baroness Von Hackert-Selchern will 
cease to play a role in respectable society.” 

“Are you speaking the truth, signor?" demanded the 
widow, fixing a sharp glance on his face. “ Are your 
plans sufficiently advanced that you may expect soon 
to tear that unscrupulous adventuress from her lofty 
pedestal ? Are you not exaggerating merely to please 
me ?” 

“ I am not given to exaggeration, signora" with a 
show of injured dignity returned the Italian. “ What 
I tell you is true. Only two things are wanting to con- 
clude the last act of the drama : One is a paper now 
in possession of a third party, which will very soon 
come into my hands ; the other, is a promise from your 
own lovely lips, signora." 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Frau Ilona, looking ex- 
pectantly at the signor, who opened the portfolio, took 
from it a packet of papers, one of which he unfolded 
as he replied : 

“ You were good enough some time ago, signora, to 
trust me with some old letters of your husband’s. 
Among them I managed to find what I wanted. Will 
you read this ?” 


252 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


He handed her an apparently -worn paper, yellowed 
with age, with half-faded writing. 

“ Examine it closely, signora^ and be good enough to 
tell me if you recognize the writing ?” 

“ I — ye-es,” stammered the widow, growing pale. 
“ It looks — it is my husband’s hand.” 

“ You are right,” assented Cadama, with a satisfied 
smile. “ This document, a legal one as you see,” he 
continued in a significant tone, “ was executed in the 

little village of B , Canton Tessin, in the presence 

of Attorney Guilio Cadama, from Rome. You could 
swear, in a court of justice, signora, that this document 
was written by your husband, the deceased General 
Von Hilgersdorf, and that it was found, after his death, 
among his papers ?” 

“ As I know nothing to the contrary, I fancy my 
conscience would permit me to take such an oath,” 
responded the widow, but she grew a shade paler. 
“ However,” she added quickly, “ I must beg that you 
will not ask me to swear to anything, unless it is abso- 
lutely unavoidable. A court of justice, you Ynovi , signor , 
is not a pleasant place for a lady.” 

Cadama raised his hands in a deprecatory gesture. 

“ Most respected, signora ! Believe me, I should not 
think of summoning you to a court-room, unless, as 
you say, it became absolutely unavoidable. But let 
us drop the unpleasant subject. I see how fearfully 
your nerves are affected. You have already suffered 
too much ! Have you heard of Rahloii’s latest idiocy ?” 

“ A fresh literary faux pas ? No, I have not seen a 
newspaper for several days !” 

The attorney searched in his portfolio and produced 
a newspaper clipping. 

“ The fellow is a born idiot,” he observed. “ Instead 
of the delicately worded item, for which I furnished the 


CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 


253 


facts, he makes a direct onslaught in yesterday’s paper. 
May I read it to you ?” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf nodded assent, and Cadama 
adjusted his pince-ncz on the bridge of his nose. 

“ ‘ Our readers,’ he began, ‘ doubtless remember the so-called 
burglary last winter at the residence of Colonel Von Hackert. 
The night of the colonel’s demise a safe was feloniously opened, 
but nothing, apparently, taken from it. As it was impossible to 
learn if anything had been taken, the investigation was dropped 
in a few days. We hear, however, that the investigation has 
been renewed, it having been found that important family docu- 
ments — of great value to the colonel’s heirs — were stolen. We 
hope very soon to acquaint our readers with another mystery 
which bears a close relation to the theft of documents.’ 

“ This, signora, is the stupid manner in which Rahlou 
performs his work. I shall certainly drop him if he 
does not use more finesse.” 

“ What have you learned about the burglary ?” in- 
quired the widow, turning the bracelet on her wrist. 

“ It is now known that Colonel Von Hackert preserved 
in his safe the papers which relate to Lucia’s birth. It 
is also known that Lucia and a confidant of her father’s 
— Baron Von Menken, secretly took possession of those 
papers the night the colonel died, and carelessly ne- 
glected to lock the safe again. The colonel’s solicitor 
noticed this fact the morning after the burglary — we 
will continue to call it so — and he at once notified the 
police, in defiance of Lucia’s objections. The investi- 
gation which followed was a mere farce. The police 
had been cunningly duped by Herr Von Menken, who 
is a clever rascal.” 

“ Is Herr Von Menken the person to whom you refer 
as holding possession of the documents you hope to se- 
cure ?” again inquired the widow. 

Cadama nodded a silent assent. 

“ Then it certainly was very stupid of Rahlou to put 
the baron on his guard,” 


254 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Yes, was it not ? But I hope to outwit Herr Von 
Menken in spite of it. By the way, signora, when do 
you go to San Remo ?” 

“ To-morrow. There is nothing to keep me longer in 
Berlin,” she replied, frowning. 

“ Shouldn’t you like to employ a cicerone — a born 
Italian who knows the Riviera like a book ?” 

“ Perhaps I might. Do you wish to recommend a 
friend of yours ?” 

I should like to recommend myself.” 

“ You?” Frau Von Hilgersdorf’s amazement was not 
affected. ‘‘ Moit Dieu ! I thought you had enough to 
keep you employed in Berlin.” 

The signor rested his elbows on the table in front of 
him. 

“ So it would seem,” he observed carelessly ; “ and I 
should find quite enough to keep me occupied were it 
not that the persons in whom I am most interested are 
going on a pilgrimage toward the south. Counselor 
Dreyfuss, his wife, Signorina Lucia, and her duenna ; 
and lastly — but by ho means least — Baron Von Men- 
ken.” 

“ What ? The baron, too ? How then do you pro- 
pose to get hold of the documents you speak of ?” 

“ That is why I follow in the baron’s wake, signora ! 
But, jesting aside, don’t you think you could make use 
of me as a cicerone — courier — tutor ?” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf laughed heartily. 

“ I might try ! We will talk about it — ” 

“ I take that as a half-promise,” interrupted ih^&signor. 
“ Let me add, that I value good treatment above any 
salary you may choose to give me.” 

Frau Ilona laughed again. Her good humor was 
restored. 

About the same time Baron Von Menken was rest- 


CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 


255 


lessly pacing the floor of his study. His hands were 
clasped behind him ; deep lines marked his forehead. 
One could see now how old and careworn he was. Rah- 
lou’s latest effusions had agitated him fearfully. Imme- 
diately after reading it he had hastened to the police 
commissioner and begged him to deny, in the next 
issue of the paper, that the investigation had been re- 
newed. Herr Von Holgen had complied with his 
request, but of what avail was the denial ? All the 
world had seen Rahlou’s article. Lucia also had read 
it — Lucia, the one among them all whose suspicions 
must not be aroused ! 

A knock at the door interrupted his meditations, and 
Francisco, still pale, but more cheerful than formerly, 
entered the room. 

“ Well, my lad ?” exclaimed the baron, turning ex- 
pectantly toward him. “ What news do you bring 
from the signor ?" 

“ Important and gratifying news, baron. Signor 
Cadama had just returned from a visit to Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf, whom he is going to accompany to Italy. 
As courier, he said ; but I fancy he is going south be- 
cause we are going.” 

“ Nothing could be better!” in a satisfied tone re- 
sponded the baron. “ There is nothing now to detain 
me in Berlin. Did Cadama tell you anything else of 
interest ?” 

He repeated his usual warnings, and wanted to know 
if I had discovered anything of importance. Accord- 
ing to the instructions you gave me, I told him you had 
a number of documents marked ‘ Hackert papers,' 
which you kept locked in a leather portfolio, and which 
you would likely carry with you on your journey. As 
you were very careful never to leave the key of the 
portfolio where I could get it, I had not yet had an op- 


256 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


portunity to get hold of the papers, but I hoped to do 
so when we got to Italy. I am certain that Cadama 
still believes I fear his threats, consequently he does 
not suspect me. He ordered me to keep a close watch 
on all your movements ; asked what plans you had 
made for our journey, and gave me instructions how to 
communicate with him.” 

Menken nodded approvingly. 

“ So far so good ! I think we can be ready to start 
with the counselor’s party ; I shall attend to the pass- 
ports at once. What is it, Janisch?” he asked of the 
old servant, who at that moment entered the room with 
a visiting card. Menken read the name of his visitor, 
an expression of joyful surprise passing over his face. 
“ Show the lady into the drawing-room, Janisch. I will 
be down immediately.” In a very few moments he en- 
tered the drawing-room, and with cordial welcome in 
his face and tone, said : “ I am surprised and de- 

lighted, Fraulein von Hackert, to see you in my house.” 
He rolled an easy-chair toward her and continued : “ I 
trust the object of this unexpected and welcome visit is 
a pleasant one ?” 

Lucia ignored the gesture which invited her to be 
seated ; she merely laid her hand on the back of the 
chair, and remained standing. 

“ My object, Herr Von Menken — to proceed at once 
to the business which brought me here — is an article in 
yesterday’s newspaper which refers to a renewal of the 
investigation of the burglary at our house the night my 
father died. You read it, I presume ?” For a moment 
the baron lost all self-control ; his face paled ; he was 
obliged to lay his trembling hand on the chair beside 
him. He would not speak, for his voice would have 
betrayed his agitation ; he merely bowed a silent assent 
to her question. “ Do you know who wrote the arti- 


CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 


257 


cle ?” she asked again, fixing her clear eyes on his face. 
“ I should like to become acquainted with the author, 
for I have an idea that the person who seems so familiar 
with our family affairs could explain many things which 
are a mystery to me.” 

Menken avoided meeting the girl’s questioning 
glance ; he let his eyes rest on the charms of his 
watch, with which he was toying. 

“ Allow me, dear miss,” he responded with difficulty, 
.speaking calmly, “ to make a remark before I answer 
your question. I feared, when I read that ridiculous 
article, that you might be annoyed by it ; consequently, 
I went at once to see the police commissioner to learn 
if the investigation had been renewed, and found that 
it had not. What sort of family papers could have 
been in the safe ? I had the honor of being one of 
your father’s most intimate friends, and surely /, if any 
one, ought to know if there is any mystery connected 
with the Hackert-Selchern family ! For twenty years 
it has consisted of but three members — yourself, your 
father and your cousin Herbert. Furthermore, I never, 
for one moment, looked on this so-called burglary as 
anything but an oversight — a trifling neglect that 
might easily happen anywhere in a time of such ex- 
citement. My opinion was justified by the police ; and 
Herr Von Holgen laughed at me when I called yester- 
day to request a denial. He says the whole thing is a 
‘ silly canard,’ the ‘ fanciful imagination of a newspaper 
reporter.’ A denial, however, appeared in to-day’s 
paper ; therefore, you need trouble yourself no further 
about this journalistic bomb. That is the remark I 
wanted to make. Now I will answer your question. 
I think — nay, I am almost certain — that Rahlou wrote 
the article. You are, of course, at liberty to question 
the fellow, but you would demean yourself in so doing. 


258 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


I speak thus frankly, Fraulein Lucia, because Rahlou 
is one of those unscrupulous persons whom it is best 
to avoid.” 

He ceased speaking. His eyes, which were still rest- 
ing on the watch-charms, had been lifted only once to 
flash a swift glance toward the girlish figure near the 
window. 

“ I am not of your opinion, Herr Von Menken,” 
quietly, but with decision, responded Lucia. “ And I 
have reason to doubt that you believe what you have 
told me.” 

The baron started, but quickly regained his self- 
command. 

“ May I ask why you think I am not telling the 
truth ?” he inquired, venturing an uncertain glance at 
her resolute face. 

“ Because I believe that Herr Rahlou tells the truth ; 
and because I believe that you, Herr Von Menken, 
know that he does ! My father’s safe was secretly 
opened, that I know, and if the police say the contrary 
a dozen times ! And I know, too, that some papers of 
importance were purloined. One does not, for a mere 
joke, surreptitiously open an iron safe at midnight !” 

Menken felt as if an iron band were compressing his 
throat ; he struggled for breath. An accuser stood 
before him, he felt it. 

“ Have you forgotten, miss,” he said with apparent 
calm, but with anxiously beating heart, “ that every- 
thing spoke against a forcible entry into your father’s 
house ? That you thought the safe had been carelessly 
left open ? That you said as much to Solicitor Waller- 
stein and Herr Von Holgen?” 

“I said so, Herr Von Menken,” interposed Lucia, 
with flashing eyes and crimson cheeks. "Because I 
wanted to shield 


CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 


259 


Menken staggered as if beneath a heavy blow. He 
was unable to utter a word. 

“ Now that I have spoken,” wrathfully continued 
Lucia, “ I will finish ! It has been a severe task to keep 
silent all this time. Herr Rahlou’s article has loosed 
my tongue ; it tells me that a fatal secret, a dark shadow 
rests on our name, and you, Herr Von Menken, know 
what it is. You may deny it, but you cannot deceive 
me. When I saw you standing that night by my 
father’s bed, I was seized with an inexplicable dread. 
I felt as if something terrible threatened me. You 
and my father’s faithful servant watched in the cham- 
ber of death that night, while I lay in the bed in my 
room with eyes open, and senses all alert, for I could 
not sleep. Suddenly I heard a door creek, and a 
stealthy footstep in the corridor. I have never known 
fear, so I rose, and noiselessly passed into my father’s 
study. Had my coming alarmed the intruder, that he 
forgot to lock the safe again ? The early dawn struggled 
through the partly open window and revealed a glitter- 
ing object lying on the carpet close by the safe. I 
picked it up — it was a scarf-pin of curious design — one 
that I had often seen and admired, a single costly pearl 
set in a golden talon ! Two minutes later I entered 
the chamber of death. You and the servant, who was 
sound asleep, were sitting by the bed. You looked at 
me so strangely — as if I were a ghost — that my courage 
failed me. I had the pin in my hand and went back to 
my room. All these weeks I have hesitated to speak. 
My silence may have made you believe that I thought 
the open safe an ‘oversight,’ a ‘ trifling neglect.’ You 
know now why I believe Herr Rahlou’s article ; it is 
not the mere ‘ fanciful imagining ’ of a reporter. There 
is some mystery connected with our family, and you 
know what it is, you knew it when you took the papers 


260 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


from the safe. Here,” she added, and came swiftly' 
toward him, holding the lost scarf-pin in her out- 
stretched hand — “here, Herr Von Menken, I bring 
you your jewel, and beg you to give me what you took 
from me. Pray give me those papers. They belong 
to me — my father’s heir, or if you will not give them 
to me, tell me what is the secret, the dark shadow 
which rests on my name ?” 

Lucia was close by his side ; he felt her breath, he 
saw her clasped hands raised pleadingly to him ; saw 
her bosom rise and fall with inward excitement. He 
saw, too, how eagerly, how beseechingly her eyes hung 
on his face, but he remained firm. He pressed his 
finger-nails deep into his palm, to dull, with a physical 
pain, the mental anguish he endured. For several 
seconds he looked at her in silence, then said, in a calm, 
even tone : 

“ You are right, Fraulein Lucia. I did tell an un- 
truth when I called Rahlou’s words the fanciful imag- 
ining of a reporter. They are partly true. I told a lie, 
but I did so — and I call God to witness that I speak 
truly now — in your interest. In your interest I opened 
your father’s safe and took possession of a document 
you must not see. I acted according to your father’s 
wishes ; it was his last request. I trembled when first 
you, then the solicitor, discovered the open safe. But 
it was not for myself that I trembled. It was for you 
— only for you. Believe me, I speak the truth when I 
say that no shadow, no disgrace, rests on the name of 
Hackert-Selchern. I cannot let you see the paper — you 
must not ask me. In guarding it I am but fulfilling 
your father’s last wishes.” 

“ Will nothing that I can say or do break your deter- 
mination ?” in despairing accents exclaimed Lucia, un- 
consciously laying, her hand on his arm. 


CONFERENCES AND RESOLUTIONS. 


261 


For an instant Herr Von Menken bent his head and 
closed his eyes. Then he drew a long, gasping breath, 
and said, in a voice that sounded strangely harsh and 
curt : 

“ No — no — I cannot — I dare not. Do not tempt me 
further.” 

Utterly discouraged, Lucia’s hands fell nervelessly to 
her side. Her gloomy eyes rested on the carpet at her 
feet. Once or twice her thin lips twitched convulsively. 
At last she lifted her face, and fixing her eyes on the 
baron, who had grown deathly pale, she said : 

“ I used to think, Herr Von Menken, that you were 
my friend, as well as my father’s. I see now that I 
was mistaken. What would you reply were I to tell 
you that I do not believe you when you say you are 
guarding that paper in my interest — that I suspect you 
of acting in accord with Rahlou, and any other enemies 
of our family ?” 

The baron looked at her with such bitter reproach in 
his eyes that she almost regretted her harsh words. 

“ Were you to prove so cruelly unjust, miss, I should 
reply : ‘ Go tell the police that I have robbed you — that 
I have your property in my possession.’ I should then 
be arrested, but before that could happen, the paper I 
have sworn to guard would be in hands as safe as my 
own.” 

Lucia stamped her foot in angry desperation, opened 
her lips as if to speak, then turned abruptly and walked 
out of the room. 

Menken looked after her. The pale autumn sun- 
shine illumined her slender figure as she passed 
through the doorway. Then all was dusky shadow 
again about him. He sank suddenly back into a chair 
and laid his hands oyer his pallid face, 



CHAPTER XX. 

A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 

A stream of human beings poured through the 
Avenue de la Gare, in Nice. It was the hour for 
dejeuner ^ and the majority of the promenaders were on 
the way to one or another of the restaurants and cafes 
which lined either side of the handsome thoroughfare. 

There is about the street-life of Nice an international 
character which distinguishes it from all other fashion- 
able resorts in Europe. Travellers from all quarters 
of the globe saunter along the broad pavements and fill 
the various eating-houses. 

This morning every chair under the orange-trees in 
the garden of the Cafe Americain was occupied when a 
young man, clad in a light-colored street-costume of 
latest cut, entered and looked vainly about for a vacant 
place. He was turning to quit the garden, when a 
sharp-toned voice exclaimed in French : 

Sapristi, Baron Von Hackert ! Not at Monte Carlo 
to-day ? Here — take a seat at my table ; there is not a 
vacant place in the caft^." 

The advanced age of the speaker was clearly percep- 
tible, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal, by the aid 
of artificial means, his approaching infirmity. His 
long, thin face would have been transparently pale had 
it not been for the artistically applied rouge which gave 
• [262] 


A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 


263 


a youthful bloom to his cheeks ; his pointed beard 
would not have shown so brilliant a raven hue without 
the art which had given the same tint to his delicately 
arched eyebrows. His clothes were of the latest fash- 
ion, but the jaunty morning coat, with its padded 
shoulders and the modish trousers, could restore noth- 
ing of the vanished youth their wearer sought to imi- 
tate. An individual of the Marquis du Cat’s exterior 
would, very likely, have excited the curiosity of the 
street gamins in a German city. In international Nice, 
however, this caricature of youth attracted hardly any 
notice. 

There was one feature of the marquis which did not 
require artificial aid — his eyes, which were large and 
coal-black, still gleamed with unimpaired brilliancy. 

The younger man, in whom we recognize the student, 
Herbert von Hackert, seated himself on the round 
metal stool close to the marquis and ordered the waiter 
to bring him an absinthe. Then, slowly drawing the 
glove from his right hand, he said, in the language of 
the country : 

“ Allow me to ask the same question, my dear mar- 
quis : Why are not you at Monte Carlo ? The croupiers 
will be amazed to find you absent from the trente-ct- 
quarcmte.” 

Du Cat smiled, and stroked his jetty mustache with 
his long, slim fingers. 

“One needs to rest occasionally, cher baron,” he 
responded. “ He who, like myself, has devoted half 
his life to the goddess of luck, wearies of the green 
tables much sooner than youngsters like yourself, 
whose vigor and hopes are easily renewed. 1 am told 
you were in luck yesterday ?” 

“ Ye-es,” stammered the student confusedly, his face 
reddening. “ I expected to meet you at the Casino, 


264 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


consequently I did not send you your share. Allow 
me,” laying four bank-notes, which he took from his 
breast-pocket, in front of the marquis. “ I won twelve 
thousand francs — four thousand for you.” 

“ Merci !” laconically responded the Frenchman, 
folding the notes and thrusting them into his pocket. 
He blew the smoke from his cigarette from his nostrils 
and asked : “ Do you still believe that my system is 
grounded on false premises ?” 

“ Beg pardon, marquis, but I never found fault with 
your ‘ system,’ as you call it. I said, merely, that I 
could not understand how it was possible to calculate 
the chances of a game of hazard. That there are times 
and situations when one’s judgment may aid one, I 
never ventured to deny.” 

“ Well, well, we won’t quarrel about it,” returned Du 
Cat. “You have seen, more than once, that my system 
works favorably, and that is enough for me ! Let us 
change the subject : Have you, during your sojourn in 
Nice, seen anything of its attractions ? Hardly, I 
fancy ! With the exception of the brief stretch to 
Monte Carlo you know nothing of the picturesque 
environments. Am I right ?” 

“ I confess it with shame !” laughingly replied Hack- 
ert. “ Satan understands how to secure his prey at 
Monte Carlo.” 

. “ Play has its attractions, my young friend,” with the 
air of a sage observed the marquis ; “ but vou must 
take time for some excursions — these lovely autumn 
days are just the season for it. Very soon winter, with 
its storms, will be on us, and then adieu to all .sight- 
seeing. Cimiez, Falicon, St. Pons, Montboron — all 
these are charming places. I have many acquaint- 
ances in beautiful Nice, and shall be delighted to intro- 
duce you. There is some one bowing to you,” he 


A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 


265 


broke off to say. “ A fellow-countryman, I presume ?” 

Hackert politely returned the salutation, but not 
without surprise, for the gentleman who had bowed to 
him was no other than Elirriar Waldau. 

Had the student followed Herr Waldau to tire win- 
dow-recess of the cafe furthest removed from the seats 
under the orange-trees, he would have been more as- 
tonished to recognize Baron Von Menken in the gentle- 
man who was enjoying a glass of cognac and a cigar 
at the comfortable little table. 

Menken and the artist greeted each other warmly. 
Although they had departed from Berlin on the same 
day, this was their first meeting for weeks. Waldau 
had visited Paris and Lyons before joining his friend 
at Nice. 

“ I went to the London House, where Francisco told 
me you were breakfasting, and was sent on here by 
the waiter,” said Elimar, seating himself at the table. 
“ I have quartered myself at the lies Britaniques, 
where we can see each other every day. Do you know 
that young Hackert is here ? Cadama is not far off, 
you may be sure.” 

“ I met the sig7ior several days ago in the public 
gardens,” returned the baron. “ He comes over almost 
every day from San Remo, and is already in communi- 
cation with Francisco. That reminds me ; we must 
keep silent about my visit to Rome, for I have an idea 
that Cadama suspects me.” 

“ I am going to San Remo in a day or two to see our 
friends ; then I shall be in a position to observe the 
signor more closely. From a letter I received from 
the counselor while I was in Paris, I gather that com- 
munication between the Hilgersdorf Villa and the 
chdteaii occupied by our friends is rather infrequent.” 

“For which the fair widow’s conduct is alone to 


266 


INVISIBLE HADNS. 


blame,” supplemented the baron. “ Personally, I should 
prefer to have the intercourse between the villa and 
the cJidteaii more lively than it is. One cannot tell 
what may be happening behind the scenes if one does 
not see a good deal of the actors !” 

“Was your visit to Rome successful?” inquired 
Elimar in a low tone. 

“ Rather. I learned some important facts connected 
with Carmella Boccani’s family. The little vivandiere 
was really a scion of an ancient patrician family. She 
was not descended from a shepherd’s hut on the cam- 
pagna, as Cadama, for reasons of his own, told F rancisco. 
Carmella’s father, Giacomo Faresi, was a partner in a 
well-known Florentine banking-house, which he repre- 
sented in Rome. He possessed a considerable fortune, 
the greater part of which he managed to squander be- 
fore he died of a wound received in a duel. Before 
his death he made a will bequeathing what was left 
of his fortune to his two children, Annibile and Car- 
mella, the former to act as guardian to his little sister, 
who was at that time only eight years old. 

“ Annibile, who was a frivolous youth, did not long 
survive his father. One year after the duel which re- 
sulted in the death of the father, the son shot himself, 
having first squandered all his own and his sister’s 
money. Carmella at the time was at school, in charge 
of an old lady who had not much learning, but plenty 
of common sense and tact. This may have laid the 
foundation for the girl’s excellent character, for I heard 
nothing but good of the little vivandiere. Shortly after 
Carmella’s brother shot himself, the old school-mistress 
died, and the little girl was sent to an orphan-asylum, 
where she forgot the little she had learned, and where 
she remained until she was fifteen. She then left the 
asylum to make her own living, and while waiting to 


A PROFESSOR OF GaMING. 


267 


be e mployed as child’s nurse, earned her bread by pos- 
ing- as model for artists. Unfortunately she fell in love 
with a fellow-model, a worthless fellow, whom she mar- 
ried before she was sixteen. Then her real troubles 
began. Her husband spent her earnings and beat her 
cruelly. She left him at last, and having no way to 
earn her living, became a vivandiere in Garibaldi’s army. 
Through all the vicissitudes of her sad life she remained 
honest and respectable. 

“ Annibile Faresi, Carmella’s brother, it seems, had 
fallen into the hands of a band of sharpers, who cheated 
him out of everything he possessed. The name of one 
of the sharpers, I learned, was Caradac Ducat, the same 
as that borne by the French marquis I met, and of 
whom I told you, that fateful 17th of February in the 
Chateau de wSaint-Estain. The marquis was introduced 
to me by Hilgersdorf as an old acquaintance from 
Rome. I remember everything connected with that 
evening at Saint-Estain so perfectly that I could not 
make a mistake about the name In Hackert’s opinion 
the marquis and Hilgersdorf were leagued together to 
cheat me. I heard while in Rome that the marquis was 
established here in Nice as a professor of gaming.” 

“ A professor of gaming ?” repeated Elimar, smiling. 
“ I have heard of regular and irregular professors of 
chemistry, of numismatics, of narrative, and so on, but 
I never heard of a professor of gaming. What manner 
of trade can that be V' 

“ A trade practiced by a professional gambler,” an- 
swered the baron, “ whose experience at the green 
table enables him to advise would-be players. When 
everybody in Europe was playing roulette, Germany 
was a favorite field for these honorable gentlemen. 
Now, however, they confine their operations to the 
Riviera, in the neighborhood of Monaco, and its temples 


268 


INVISIBT.K HANDS. 


of Satan. Here is the last Petit Nifois. Look at the 
last page of advertisements, and you will find three — 
four — five — six, indeed — announcements of such pro- 
fessors. Here is one : ‘ Any person — ’ ’’read the baron 
— “ ‘ desirous of trying his luck at Monte Carlo, should 
first call at No. 397 Avenue Delphine, first floor left. 
Advice and explanation concerning roulette and tretite- 
et-quarante.' Here is another one ; ‘ A never-failing 
system to certain success in games of hazard will be 
taught for a moderate sum at No. 705 Rue du Pont 
Neuf, two steps right.’ A third announcement informs 
the public that ‘ unfailing success at roulette will be as- 
sured to him who will apply to M. Francois Chautellier, 
No. 80 Boulevard Bonchage, ” 

“ What precious rascals these gaming professors 
must be !” laughingly exclaimed Elimar. “ Do 5mu 
imagine they ever receive applications for ‘ advice ’ ?” 

“ I am not exaggerating when I assure you that they 
drive a thriving business. Nothing incites human 
passions so much as gambling, nothing arouses more 
evil inclinations. A gambler may be educated and en- 
lightened to a degree, but he becomes, when at the 
green table, a prey to superstition as childish as that 
which rules a savage. A passion for play dulls the in- 
tellect and creates unhealthy desires. Before the rou- 
lette ball was banished from Wiesbaden, I became 
acquainted with a distinguished scientist who was very 
fond of play. Nothing could induce this remarkably 
brilliant man to approach the gaming table in any 
other coat but the one from which the top button was 
missing. He had lost this button in the gaming hall 
one day, and on the same day had won an enormous 
sum ! Another celebrated scholar with whom I am 
acquainted always bets on the numbers given him by 
his old housekeeper, a totally ignorant woman. Not 


A PROFESSOR OF O AMINO. 


260 


even his frequent ill-luck can convince him that the 
old crone does not possess what he terms ‘ uncommon 
talent for divination !’ ” 

“ Do these professors of gaming- practice their 
theories at the green table ?” after a pause inquired 
Waldau. 

“ I don’t believe they do,” laughingly returned Men- 
ken. They excuse their seeming want of faith in their 
own teachings by telling you they were ‘ born to ill- 
luck.’ But to return to our worthy Marquis Caradac 
Ducat. I heard, as I told you, that he was in Nice, and, 
thanks to the efforts of Francisco, who visited every 
gaming professor advertising in the Petit Nifois, I 
have found him. The marquis goes by his name here, 
only he now separates the Ducat, and writes it ‘ Du 
Cat.’ My Roman informant, by the way, told me that 
the Marquisate Ducat was situated somewhere on the 
moon. I inquired about the marquis of the proprietor 
of lies Britanique, whom I have known for many years. 
He tells me that Ducat does not use a ‘ system ’ for 
roulette, only for trente-et-qiiara7ite. This is very 
shrewd of him. In the latter game the chances be- 
tween the player and the bank are about even, while in 
roulette, the player is always at a disadvantage. Ducat 
does not charge for his ‘ system,’ he demands a per- 
centage on the winnings, which brings him a consider- 
able income. He never risks anything, and among the 
hundreds who use his system, there are always some 
on whom chance smiles favorably.” 

“ Do you expect to gain from this worthy professor, 
who exists on the stupidity of his fellow-man, any in- 
formation that will benefit our cause ?” inquired Elimar. 

“ No ; I hope to make use of him in another way. 
You know that Frau Von Hilgersdorf and Signor 
Cadama have become very confidential friends of late 


270 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


and I have no doubt there is a reason for this friend- 
ship. Ever since that day when Colonel Von Hackert, 
on French soil, proved that Hilgersdorf was a dishon- 
est gamester, unworthy to wear his uniform, Hilgers- 
dorf regarded the colonel with malignant hatred and 
spite. He was the only person beside Hackert who 
knew the secret of Lucia’s birth, and he would not 
have betrayed the secret to the world at large had he 
not known that his reputation was in Hackert’s keep- 
ing. Hackert could prove that he was a cheat, and 
that was the sword of Damocles beneath which Hil- 
gersdorf trembled. He must, however, have revealed 
the secret to Cadama shortly before he died. At least 
I infer that he did from what Francisco told me — for 
the signor's operations against Lucia began about that 
time. Cadama’s move to enlist Hilgersdorf’s widow, 
who is Lucia’s enemy — you know why — in his cause is 
a shrewd one, but I hope to use the professor of gam- 
ing to frustrate any design he may have in that direc- 
tion. Ducat was an intimate friend of Hilgersdorf’s, 
and is certain to be familiar with many a ‘ shady ’ epi- 
sode in the general’s life.” 

“ I question whether the worthy marquis will betray 
his partner — honor among thieves, you know !” ob- 
served Elimar. 

“ Yes, but I shall take good care to approach him in 
a way that will silence any scruples he may have,” in a 
significant tone responded the baron. 

“ I am curious to know how you will succeed,” said 
Waldau, rising at the same time with Menken. “ When 
do you intend to call on him ?” 

“ At once — though I doubt if he is at home now. His 
hours are before ten, mornings, and it is now eleven. 
I shall go, however, and if he is not at home, will find 
out when he is certain to be disengaged.” 


A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 


271 


As they stepped into the garden they saw Herbert 
von Hackert, who was still sitting with the Frenchman 
under the orange-trees. Menken started when his eyes 
fell on the marquis. 

“ That is Du Cat,” he whispered to his companion. 
“ I am not mistaken in that painted mask and gleaming 
eyes. This is fortunate. We must manage to have 
some conversation with him.” 

They were now beside the table at which the marquis 
and Von Hackert were seated. Menken bowed to the 
latter, saying, as he lifted his hat ; 

“ This is an unexpected pleasure, Herr Von Hackert. 
Have you been long on the Riviera ?” 

“For several weeks, Herr Von Menken. Will you 
join us, or are you on your way out ?” 

Menken and Elimar drew up chairs, and the student 
introduced the “ Marquis Du Cat.” 

“ If I am not mistaken,” in his most affable manner, 
observed Herr Von Menken, turning to the marquis, 
“ I have already had the pleasure of meeting you, 
monsieur. It was so long ago — ten years — that I doubt 
if you remember our meeting in the Chateau de Saint- 
Estain, near Belfort.” 

“ Ah, yes, I remember,” returned the marquis, fixing 
his bright black eyes on the baron’s face. “ Those days at 
Saint-Estain are still fresh in my memory. At that time 
my old friend Hilgersdorf was quartered at the chdteau. 
I remember how delighted I was to see him again. 
Hilgersdorf and I had been friends in our youth, and 
after more than two decades I met him again — an 
enemy of my country ! The wild boy, for whom 
nothing was too extravagant, had become a brave and 
gallant soldier. Sacre tonnerrc ! I should not ‘have 
recognized him, had it not been his old passion for the 
jell betrayed him. Would you believe it? There, in the 


272 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


midst of a rain of bombs, we amused ourselves with 
trente-et-quarante ! What a pity Count Saint-Estain 
and his young brother met so sad an end ! They were 
brave patriots and excellent men. I may confess it to- 
day : I too was concerned in that conspiracy to aid 
Bourbaki. Had I not taken to my heels when the 
count’s balloon was caught I should not be sitting here 
now !” 

Many pleasant memories of the past were re- 
called. The marquis, who was an excellent as well as 
an amusing talker, related twenty piquant little his- 
tories of the days when he and the deceased Hilgers- 
dorf had made “Rome howl,” as he expressed it. 

“ At that time,” continued Du Cat, “ Hilgersdorf was 
twenty-odd years. He had not yet entered the army, 
which he did only after he left Italy. What a wild fel- 
low he was ! He distinguished himself chiefly during 
the carnival, when he committed the wildest extrava- 
gances. We were a merry crowd. I can remember 
the name of only one more besides Hilgersdorf — a 
young banker, Annibile Faresi, whose tragic end — 
he committed suicide — created quite a sensation in the 
Eternal City. We would disguise ourselves in the most 
ridiculous costumes, parade the streets, force our way 
into houses, and commit a hundred mad pranks. Mon 
Dieu ! We were so young and full of life. Age, with 
its reason, came soon enough !” 

A pleasant half-hour was passed ; then the marquis 
rose, begged to be excused, and, after shaking hands 
cordially with Herr Von Menken and hoping to meet 
him again very soon, lifted his hat to the rest and 
sauntered out of the garden. 

The apartments occupied by the Marquis Du Cat 
were in the Rue des Ponchettes, and were furnished 
with an elegance and comfort seen only in the best 


A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 


273 


houses. When the marquis arrived at his apartments, 
he rang for his valet — a gray-haired man, who wore 
his “claw-hammer,” knee-breeches and silk stockings 
with the air of a noble of the rococo age — and with 
the assistance of the dignified factotum, removed his 
coat and donned an elegant robe de chamber. Then he 
gently mopped his brow and eyelids with cologne 
water, stretched himself on the lounge and closed his 
eyes. 

To-day, however, the professor’s siesta was not to be 
of long duration. A sharp peal of the door-bell in- 
formed him that a visitor wished to be admitted ; 
and a few moments later Givet, the valet, came to an- 
nounce that a gentleman desired to speak with mon- 
sieur. 

“ Very sorry,” responded Du Cat, turning on his 
other side, “but my hours for receiving visitors are 
before ten. Tell the gentleman to read the card on 
my door.” 

“The gentleman,” timidly ventured Givet, “knows 
that it is after monsieur's hours, but he insists on being 
admitted. He says he has business of extreme im- 
portance with monsieur." 

“ The devil take him and his business ! What ’s his 
name ? Did you ask him ?” 

“I did, monsieur. The gentleman calls himself 
Menken — Baron Von Menken, a German !” he con- 
cluded with a disdainful curl of his lip. 

Givet was not a little astonished when his master sat 
suddenly upright at the mention of the “ German's ” 
name, and said ; 

“ Ah, the baron ! My clothes, Givet, and tell Monsieur 
Von Menken I will see him.” 

Herr Von Menken was sitting in an easy-chair, 
smoking, when the professor entered the reception 


274 


INVISIBLE HADNS, 


room. He did not rise. He merely waved his hand in 
greeting and s aid carelessly : 

“ I dare say I disturbed your slumbers, my dear Du 
Cat.” Then he crossed one knee over the other, flicked 
the ashes from his cigar, and continued : “ I am sorry, 
for your nerves must require a good deal of rest ; but 
I want to see you on a matter of extreme importance. 
You are the same Ducat — written as one word, with a 
capital D — who, on the 17th of October, 1845, was 
sentenced by the assizes in Rome to three years’ im- 
prisonment for cheating at cards, aren’t you ?” 

If Herr Von Menken imagined that his sudden in- 
quiry would startle the wily old Frenchman he was 
mistaken. The marquis did not even change color. 
Perhaps, too, it would have been impossible to detect 
any signs of confusion beneath the stratum of enamel 
which covered his face. He merely smiled serenely, 
drew forward an easy-chair, into which he comfortably 
adjusted his spare frame, and said : 

“ Why, this is very interesting ! Y ou seem to be 
familiar with my past life, chcr baron. Were you at 
one time a jurist or an archaeologist, that you delved 
among the tribunal archives of Rome ? Yes, I am the 
self-same Ducat, and I served my three years without 
a single week of grace. It was detestable ! Just fancy, 
my dear baron, I — the Marquis Caradac Ducat — forced 
to wear a blouse and trousers of coarse gray cotton and 
to pluck wool ! It was frightful ! It took months to 
make my poor hands presentable again. A veritable 
skin of horn had formed on the ends of my fingers. It 
was atrocious — perfectly atrocious !” he concluded, with 
angry vehemence, spreading out his slender white 
hands, on which no signs of prison labor were now 
.visible. 

The baron smiled, Du Cat’s impudence did not in 


A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 


275 


the least offend him. On the contrary, it convinced 
him that the marquis was just the sort of man he re- 
quired. 

“ I see that I may speak frankly to you, mon clier 
marquis,” he said, after blowing a cloud of smoke from 
his lips. “ I prefer to do so, and am glad that you do 
not, by unnecessary prudery, compel me to feign con- 
ventional politeness in addressing you. I was very 
glad to renew my acquaintance with you this morning, 
for I have been looking for you — with peaceful inten- 
tions,” he added smilingly. “ I had no intention of 
calling you to account for leaguing with your old friend, 
Hilgersdorf, to cheat me that evening at Saint-Estain 
out of nineteen thousand Prussian thalers. No, such 
is not my intention, cher marquis. I have forgotten all 
those old happenings, and I pledge you my word of 
honor that not a syllable concerning your past shall 
escape my lips if you grant me the slight favor I shall 
ask. Of course, I expect, in case you grant my request, 
to express my gratitude in a most substantial manner.” 

The tone and words were too significant for the mar- 
quis to pretend he had not understood them. Involun- 
tarily his manner became more deferential. 

“ If I can do any favor for monsieur” he returned, 
with a gracious courtesy, “ I am at his disposal without 
asking for an equivalent. Before I ask what it is you 
want of me, I should like to convince you that you ac- 
cuse me wrongly. We are alone. I may, therefore, 
speak with candor : The one to blame for your losses 
the evening I had the honor to become acquainted with 
you at Saint-Estain was not myself, monsieur le baron^ 
but your countryman and comrade in arms. Monsieur 
Hilgersdorf. I tell a great many lies — it is part of my 
profession — but this is the truth — the plain, unadulter- 
ated truth.” 


276 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ I am sorry there are no living witnesses, Monsieur 
Du Cat,” returned the baron. “ If there were I should 
not need to. trouble you. To be plain, I am anxious to 
obtain proofs of some misdemeanor committed by Hil- 
gersdorf — ” 

“ Surely,” hastily interposed the marquis, “ you don’t 
want to call a dead man to account for the misdeeds of 
his life ?” 

‘^No^ I merely want an effective weapon to use 
against his widow, who is malignantly aiding to perse- 
cute an innocent person,” replied Menken, whose face 
had flushed slightly at the Frenchman’s query. 

Du Cat in time suppressed the whistle which his 
pursed lips were about to emit, and instead ejaculated 
mentally : “ This fellow is a scamp like myself.” Aloud 
he added : 

“ I understand, and am rejoiced that I shall be able to 
accommodate you. I told you I became acquainted with 
Hilgersdorf when he was a youth. Already then he 
was passionately fond of play, and,” he added, with a 
meaning twinkle in his black eyes, “ never hesitated to 
assist chance. At that time one of the best known 
gamblers in Rome was Emmanuelle Fratti, who had 
gathered about him a few adventurous spirits, among 
whom were Hilgersdorf and myself. One of the victims 
of this band was the young Roman I mentioned this 
morning, Annibile Faresi, who shot himself after we 
had won all his money. Unfortunately the investiga- 
tion which followed his death led to the arrest of our 
band — all but Hilgersdorf, who managed to escape from 
the country. They are all dead now but Fratti and 
myself. Fratti still plies his old trade at Mentone. 
He was more intimate with Hilgersdorf than I was, 
and I dare say could tell of many a shady transaction 
in which your countryman was chief factor. As Fratti 


A PROFESSOR OF GAMING. 


277 


is a friend of mine, I think I may promise you his as- 
sistance also.” 

Menken now rose to go. 

“ I am greatly indebted to you, marquis,” he said 
earnestly, “and ask in parting that you will keep this 
visit and its object a secret — at least until I give you 
permission to speak of it. May I depend on your keep- 
ing silent ?” 

“ Always !” solemnly responded Du Cat, bowing, and 
laying his right hand against the breast-pocket of his 
coat which contained a pack of cards — a vow that was 
as binding as any that could have been taken by the 
professor of gaming. 





CHAPTER XXI. 

THE GREATEST HAPPINESS. 

It was one of the last days of October. The westering 
siin shed a crimson glow over the gently undulating 
surface of the blue sea, and a gentle breeze played 
among the cypress and olive-trees, which murmured an 
accompaniment to the soft, rustling sound of the waves 
breaking on the shore. 

Counselor Dreyfuss, with the latest number of the 
Illustrated Journal in his hand, reclined in a comfort- 
able American rocking-chair on the veranda of the 
stately villa which he had leased for their sojourn on 
Riviera. 

Herr Dreyfuss was not reading, although he held the 
newspaper as if he were intent upon its columns. His 
glance rested alternately on Lucia von Hackert and 
Frau Annie Doring, who were promenading in the 
shady garden, and his wife, who was sitting with Frau 
Von Sporken on the veranda, industriously knitting at 
a stocking of considerable length and width. Frau 
Therese’s glance now and then followed that of her 
husband when it wandered toward the two young women 
in the garden, and a satisfied gleam shone in her eyes 
every time they rested on the plump form of the little 
Frau Annie. To Frau Therese the presence of her 
[278] 


THE GREATEST HAPPINESS. 


279 


niece in the Italian villa was a great comfort as well 
as a pleasure. Had it not been for Annie the worthy- 
dame would have been quite at a loss how to manage 
the affairs of her household in this strange land, where 
oil instead of butter was used in cooking, and the cooks 
were men instead of women as they should be. 

“ I never look at Annie but I wonder at the great 
change in the child,” observed the counselor, as his 
eyes wandered again toward his favorite. “ She used 
to be so serious and quiet, and now she is as lively and 
merry as a cricket. Marriage has changed her whole 
nature. Just let any one say to me that we men do not 
exercise a beneficial influence over a woman’s disposi- 
tion !” he concluded, winking roguishly at his wife 
whose knitting needles were clicking musically. 

“ Humph !” she retorted, without looking up from 
her flying fingers. “ You seem to forget that we had a 
deal of trouble to induce you to look favorably on 
Annie’s marriage. Had you been allowed to have 
your way the dear child would now be sitting silent 
and sad at home in Berlin — ” 

“ There — there !” hastily interposed the counselor. 
“ Don’t be stirring up unpleasant memories ! Every 
one is liable to make one or more mistakes in his life- 
time. I thought I was acting for the child’s good. 
Let the matter rest now. Besides, my dear, your re- 
tort by no means refutes my axiom, which, by the way, 
reminds me to ask you, Frau Von Sporken, if you have 
ever thought of a marriage for our Lucia ?” 

Frau Von Sporken smiled and replied : 

“ So direct a question requires an equally candid re- 
ply. I have thought of it, counselor. I have observed 
lately that Lucia indulges in ‘ moods.’ She used to be 
so frank and open-hearted, used to tell me everything. 
But for weeks she has been reserved and silent, and T 


280 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


have thought, perhaps — nay, I hoped it might be a sign 
that a deeper affection had taken possession of her heart.” 

“ I hope so — I hope so,” heartily assented Herr Drey- 
fuss. “ I, too, have had my suspicions. Yes, you may 
look at me in surprise. I have seen, too, that young 
Waldau is head over ears in love with our little Lux. 
I don’t know any one I would rather see her marry 
than our young friend Waldau.” 

While this discussion was in progress on the veranda, 
the younger members of the family in the garden were 
also engaged in a conversation, the subject of which 
was the ever-youthful god Cupid. 

“ Indeed, my dear Lux,” exclaimed Annie, laying her 
arm around the slender waist of her friend, “ I cannot 
tell you how happy I am ! Now that my dear uncle 
has forgiven me for running away with Hans, I cannot 
imagine anything else that could add to my happiness. 
It is perfect.” 

Lucia gazed at the fleecy clouds which were floating 
in the western sky. A sorrowful expression lingered 
around her delicate lips and in her dark eyes. 

‘‘ What is the greatest happiness one can experi- 
ence ?” she asked in a tone so low that it seemed more 
as if she were communing with herself. “ Is it really 
to love ? Does the forgetfulness of self, the entire 
yielding of one’s heart to another bring content and 
happiness ? Or is it only another fancy, like so much 
else in this life ?” 

” No, no, my little skeptic,” returned the young wife. 
“ True love is not a product of the fancy. It comes 
from the heart. As the sun warms and irradiates the 
earth, so does true love warm and brighten the human 
existence. Just think how wretched it must be to live 
for oneself alone — to lock in one’s own breast all joy 
and sorrow ! All sophistry, all the philosophy in the 


THE GREATEST HAPPINESS. 


281 


world cannot weaken the eternal truth that the great- 
est happiness on earth is to love.” 

Lucia made no reply, but bent her head on her 
breast, as if to read for herself, in the shining pebbles 
at her feet, the confirmation of Annie’s enthusiastic 
assertion. She was not sorry to hear Frau Therese’s 
voice at that moment summon Annie to the veranda. 
She wanted to be alone. 

When Annie was gone, the young girl sauntered 
slowly along the path toward the pavilion, which 
crowned the slight elevation at the foot of the garden. 
From this spot one could look over the sea, far out to 
where a pale-blue line marked the rocky coast of 
Corsica. 

Lucia seated herself on the rustic bench and traced 
hieroglyphics with the point of her parasol in the sand. 
Her thoughts wandered from the shore of the blue sea 
to a certain romantic valley among the Swiss moun- 
tains. How often had she thought of that summer- 
day when, amid the Alpine storm, a heart had been 
offered to her ! How often thought of her cruel 
words ! No, she had not been cruel, only candid. She 
would have been untruthful had she spoken differently, 
and no untruth had ever crossed her lips. From the 
first hour of their meeting she had admired and sym- 
pathized with Elimar Waldau ; and now — now that she 
knew he had turned from his former frivolous life, that 
he devoted himself with a lasting energy and ambition 
to his noble work — now she felt that she might with 
pride and gladness acknowledge her love for him. 

Yes, she loved him. She need no longer hide the 
secret in her breast. vShe loved him, loved his wonder- 
ful talent, his pure heart and generous nature. Yes, 
yes, Annie Doring was right : To love is the greatest 
happiness ! 



CHAPTER XXII. 

COUNTER-MINING, 

Signor Cadama was on his way to Bordighera, where 
he expected to meet Francisco Boccani. He occupied 
a seat at the open window of a first-class carriage, from 
which he blew the smoke of his cigarette into the air. 

The signor's exterior was that of a man contented 
with himself and all the world. But it was a very de- 
ceptive exterior. He was a very discontented man. 
Matters progressed too slowly to suit him ; his position 
was becoming excessively wearisome. Besides, there 
were too many confederates in the plot ; he saw that 
now it was too late. But these hangers-on should not 
trouble him much longer. The engine shrieked, the 
train came to a halt and Cadama alighted to find 
Francisco awaiting him. The two walked arm-in-arm 
toward Caf4 Sapia, which is near the station. 

“ Well ?” with a rising inflection, briefly observed 
Cadama when they were seated at a table. 

Francisco understood the query. He thrust his hand 
into his breast pocket and drew forth a folded paper, 
which he laid on the table in front of him. 

“ Favor for favor, signor" he said, keeping his hand 
on the document. “ I have accomplished the task you 
[282] 


COUNTER-MINING. 


283 


g-ave me and have pilfered from my master the docu- 
ment you seem to value so highly. But I do not intend 
to give it to you until I have received an equivalent.” 

“ What are the contents of the paper ?” asked 
Cadama, fixing a keen glance on the lad’s face. 

“ It relates to the legal adoption of my sister, Lucia, 
by Baron Von Hackert-Selchern, executed in Berlin on 
the second day of October, i860.” Cadama grew pale 
with excitement. Involuntarily his hand extended 
toward the document, but Francisco drew it back. 
“ Pardon, signor” he interposed. “ You must allow me 
to be as cautious as yourself.” 

The attorney suppressed an oath. 

“ I only wanted to convince myself that you are 
speaking the truth,” he said quietly, but his eyes 
gleamed ominously. “ Do you imagine 1 would buy a 
eat in a bag ?” 

“ For that I think you too cunning, signor. I will 
read the paper to you, and you may look on and con- 
vince yourself that it is genuine.” 

Francisco unfolded the document, held it so that Ca- 
dama could see it, and began in a low tone to read. 

For several moments after Francisco had concluded, 
the signor was silent. Then he said : 

“ What do you want in exchange for this paper ?” 

“ Nothing but the attestation I gave you in Rome — 
the paper in which I falsely declare myself a thief.” 

“You are insolent, Francisco,” returned Cadama, 
with* a darkening face. “ Suppose I should summon 
yon gendarme over yonder ? It would be serving you 
right.” 

“ I question that, signor. Moreover, I am quite cer- 
tain you will not carry out your threat. Were you to 
do so, you would lose all chance of getting possession 
of this paper. But why need we quarrel ? This is a 


284 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


barter — nothing more. If you are not satisfied with 
my conditions — va bene." 

He made as if he would return the paper to his 
pocket, but Cadama laid a restraining hand on his arm : 

“ Hold !” he exclaimed. “ Why act a comedy ? 
Here,” taking a paper from his letter-case and handing 
it to Francisco. “ Here is the attestation ; now give 
me the document.” 

Francisco carefully examined the paper ; then he 
pushed the document across the table. 

“ Now we are quits, signor. Henceforce I am free 
to work for or against you !” 

Cadama started. There was a threat in the lad’s 
tone. 

“ You will work against me, of course ?” he observed, 
resting his piercing eyes on Francisco’s face. 

“ On the contrary, signor. I should be a fool to turn 
against you now, when we can work together as equals. 
I expect to share the proceeds which will result if your 
plans succeed.” 

A sneering smile crossed Cadama’s lips. 

“ I think you forget, my boy, the conversation we 
had in Berlin, when you begged me not to annoy you 
with offers of money.” 

“ At that time this attestation was still in your pos- 
session,” coolly retorted Francisco. “ Matters are dif- 
ferent to-day. Hereafter I expect to be well paid for 
my labor.” 

Cadama stroked his beard, then slowly emptied his 
glass of vermouth : 

“ I confess, my dear boy,” he said in his usual tone, 
“ that I would prefer to keep you in my service. Of 
course, I do not' expect you to work for nothing. I 
shall reward you handsomely. One thing, however, I 
want to impress on your mind, You are mistaken if 


COUNTER-MINING. 


285 


you imagine that because I have given you that attes- 
tation you have escaped my power. You forget that I 
still have the stolen coins found in your pocket the 
night of the burglary at the Palazzo Borghese. Don’t 
you suppose my word would count against anything 
you might say were I to accuse you of stealing them ? 
As well as the valuable document you have pilfered 
from Baron Von Menken. I have no intention of doing 
so, my lad. I merely want you to know that you are not 
so free as you imagine, and that it will be to your 
advantage to remain my friend and assistant. But 
enough of this. I have something more to say to you. 
You can earn a good round sum immediately, my dear 
Cecco, by helping me in a matter that has nothing to do 
with restoring to Herr Von Hackert the fortune ille- 
gally held by another. I am anxious to secure an un- 
interrupted interview with Lucia ; and as I cannot call 
on her at San Remo, where she is guarded by a family 
of dragons, I must accomplish my desire by stealth. 
Wc must manage to lure the girl to the garden of the 
Hilgersdorf villa, where I occupy apartments in the 
pavilion, and where I can talk, with her without fear of 
interruption. During the interview I want you to wait 
in the adjoining room, where you can hear every word, 
and be ready to join me at a given signal. I need not 
tell you what I propose to say to Lucia ; you will hear it 
in the pavilion. So soon as a favorable opportunity 
offers I shall find a way to bring the girl to Frau Von 
Hilgersdorf’s garden.” 

Francisco deliberated a moment, then said in the 
tone of submission he was accustomed to use when ad- 
dres.sing the signor : 

“ I don’t think you will have to wait long for an op- 
portunity. I shall be at liberty to help you the first 
half of next week, when the baron and Herr Wal- 


286 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


dau expect to go to Cannes. I am to remain in 
Nice.” 

“Chance favors us once more !” with animation ex- 
claimed the signor. “ That intriguing baron and his 
Pylades, the artist, are the only persons I fear.” 

He summoned the waiter, paid his bill, then looking 
at his watch added : * 

“ It is twelve o’clock, and the train will be here in a 
few minutes. I must go to Monaco where Herr Von 
Hackert is expecting me. By heaven ! I am getting 
tird wasting my savings on that worthless fellow !” 

Francisco and the signor walked together back to 
the railway station, but entered separate carriages in 
order to avoid attracting attention. 

A short time afterward, while Cadama and Herr 
Von Hackert were discussing another loan, Francisco 
related to Herr Von Menken his conversation with the 
signor. 

“The scoundrel,” he concluded, “is not, so clever as 
I thought him. He really believes the document all 
that it should be. I dare say he thinks it genuine be- 
cause I pretended I would not give it to him, and he 
believes, too, that I am still afraid of his power, that I 
am still a marionette that will dance whenever he 
chooses to pull the string. I believe, baron, that the 
signor intends a grand coup in arranging an interview 
with Lucia, and think that now, more than ever, is the 
time for us to be on our guard.” 

Menken nodded his head. There was an expression 
of deep gloom on his face. 

“Yes; the secret of Lucia’s birth cannot remain a 
secret much longer. We shall have to allow Cadama 
to carry out his design in order to entrap him. Of 
course you will obey when he summons you to the 
pavilion ; but there will be some listeners on whom he 


COUNTER-MINING. 


2S7 


does not count. I shall be there with two stout g'en- 
darmes. You may go now, and take a look at Monaco, 
my boy, but keep away from the green table ! Before 
you go, run over to the Hotel de Russie and ask if any 
letters have been forwarded from Nice for me or Herr 
Waldau.” 

The lad hastened to obey, and the baron returned to 
Elimar Waldau, who was waiting for him at one of the 
tables in front of the Grand Cafe de Paris. 

“ The end of the drama is near,” observed Herr Von 
Menken seating himself, “ and the question is, will the 
conclusion satisfy us ?” 

He proceeded to relate what he had heard from 
Francisco, adding : 

“ Lucia will very soon learn that she has no right to 
the name of Hackert-Selchern.” 

“ Poor girl, my heart bleeds for her,” murmured 
Elimar compassionately. 

“Yes, it is a great pity that she should not be allowed 
to continue believing herself the daughter of that noble 
old soldier,” assented Menken. “ However, since I 
have learned what an excellent woman Carmella 
Boccani was, I have not feared so much for Lucia. 
She will suffer at first — that is but natural — but when 
she remembers that she need not be ashamed of her 
unfortunate mother, I think she will accept her posi- 
tion, as only a warm-hearted, generous nature could 
accept it.” 

“ And Francisco ?” inquired Waldau. “ Don't you 
think it will be trying for Lucia to know that her 
brother occupies a menial position.” 

Menken’s brow became deeply wrinkled. 

“ Whea it becomes known that Lucia is not Colonel 
Von Hackert’s daughter, Francisco ceases to be my 
servant and becomes my friend and equal. He has 


288 


INViSiBLE hands. 


expressed a desire to go to America, and I shall take 
good care that he finds in his new home a comfortable 
situation.” 

Elimar was deeply moved. Menken had thought of 
everything. The young artist’s heart was filled with 
remorse and shame when he remembered that he had 
once doubted this man, whose unselfish friendship for 
Lucia stood higher, seemed nobler, than his own love 
for her. Involuntarily he held out his hand ; but 
Menken turned abruptly, almost rudely, from the mute 
exhibition of gratitude and admiration. 

At this moment Francisco came toward them with a 
letter. It was for Herr Waldau, whose cheeks flushed 
with anger as he read the contents. 

“Jealousy and envy — pure envy !” he exclaimed pas- 
sionately, flinging the letter on the table. The secre- 
tary of the art exhibition writes that a number of 
artists have protested against my receiving a prize for 
my ‘ Kerkerwonne.' He adds that I need not fear the 
decision of the committee. But isn’t it infamous ? 
Nothing like it ,ever happened before in the history 
of the art exhibition ! Of course, that fellow Rahlou 
is to blame for it. Rahlou, whose blood and ink were 
poisoned by the well-deserved punishment he received 
from me in the Cafe Bauer last winter.” 

“ I dare say Rahlou is at the bottom of it,” quietly 
observed the baron, rising ; “ but I see no necessity 
for getting so angry at such a trifle. Genius and talent 
will make a way for themselves no matter what the 
obstructions — and you have both. Come, let us go into 
the gaming-hall ! In laughing at the weakness of 
others, we will banish our own gloom and anger.” 

Among the players gathered aroung the trente-et- 
quarante table was Herbert Von Hackert, hi*s face pale 
and worn, his eyes fixed gloomily on the game. With 


COUNTER-MINING. 


289 


an automatic movement the banker flung the cards on 
the table, Perd !" and Gagne /” IsWing with 

monotonous regularity from his lips, as the gold coins 
clinked musically under the croupier’s rake. 

Hackert tossed both the gold pieces he held in his 
hand on rouge ; at the same moment the tall man, who 
had been watching him, turned away, smiling and 
shaking his head. In turning, his eyes fell on Signor 
Cadama, who was standing a little apart, also watching 
the game. 

A half-startled, half-glad expression came into the 
tall man’s face : 

‘‘ Excusez,"he murmured apologetically, as he pushed 
his way along through the crowd toward the signor. 

“ My dear Cadama ! Is this really you ?” he exclaimed 
in a familiar tone, either not noticing or appearing not 
to notice the unpleasant surprise depicted on the 
Italian’s face. “What a place is this temple of evil 
passions to meet old friends and recall long-forgotten 
memories ! How long is it since our last meeting ? It 
was in Rome — ’’ 

“ Yes, yes,” interrupted Cadama, impatiently waving 
his hand. “ It was in Rome. You seem to have pros- 
pered. Monsieur Du Cat. What are you doing now if I 
may inquire ?” 

Without speaking the marquis pointed to the gaming- 
table, then tapped his forefinger against his brow. 

Cadama smiled : 

“ Ah,” he returned, with a look of intelligence. “ You 
are at the old trade, are you ? It must be a lucrative 
one.” 

“I make enough to support myself, signor. It is a 
more certain trade, at all events, than the ‘ agency ’ 
business in which I was engaged in Rome.” 

“ And which eventually forced you to quit the Eternal 


290 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


City for a residence on French territory !” mockingly 
supplemented Cadama. 

“ Very true, my dear fellow, I have not forgotten 
that you are the cause of my quitting Rome sans adieu. 
You must let me thank you for — ” 

“ Consider the obligation canceled, cher marquis,” 
hastily interposed Cadama. “ It was merely a return 
for the favor you did for me. We are even !” 

“ Pardon, signor — not quite. You forget that you 
broke our agreement when you failed to lend me your 
aid in that famous, or rather infamous, burglary-comedy 
in the Palazzo- Borghese. I have often thought, since 
then, that you took that way to get rid of me.” 

Cadama was about to reply, when Hackert ap- 
proached. 

“ What, you still here, Cadama ; and you are ac- 
quainted with the marquis ? That, however, is not 
surprising, for Du Cat seems to be acquainted with all 
the world. I congratulate you, marquis, your ‘ system ’ 
is an admirable one — for the banker ! I have sacrified 
my last hundred francs, and am burned out — like an 
extinguished candle !” 

“ For an intemperate and injudicious player my 
system certainly is of no benefit,” laconically observed 
Du Cat. “ You know well enough that cold-blooded 
composure is the first requirement of every player, and 
you, baron, exhibited anything but composure or dis- 
cretion to-day. My advice has brought you luck more 
than once. If you will heed it now you will play no 
more to-day. You are excited and will surely continue 
to lose.” 

“ Oho ! Do you really think I should ?” exclaimed the 
student, with a swaggering air. “ I am a German, my 
good marquis, and we Germans have always under- 
stood how to command our nerves. I admit that I be- 


COUNTER-MINING. 


291 


came a trifle excited when rouge lost ten consecutive 
times. But I am perfectly cool again, and with golden 
aid from my friend Cadama, am ready to resume the 
battle with my sworn enemy, ‘ hazard.’ ” He turned to 
the signor, and added briefly : “ I want three thousand 
francs.” 

“ With great pleasure,” responded Cadama, smiling 
in a peculiar manner. “ But I should prefer to hand 
over the sum ‘ under four eyes,’ so to speak.” 

“ And my eyes are just two too many,” laughingly 
supplemented the marquis. He bowed and turned 
back to the table. Cadama and the student betook 
themselves to the veranda. 

“ Before we proceed to business, let us light a cigar- 
ette,” suggested the latter, striking a match against 
the gilded balustrade. “ That is an evil regulation in 
the gaming-hall, which forbids one from soothing the 
nerves with tobacco smoke. Well, what have you to 
say to me ‘ under four eyes,’ signor ? Go ahead, only 
don’t lecture. I am not in the mood for that sort of 
thing just now — ” 

“ Or ever,” calmly interposed the signor. “ It is use- 
less to waste breath in talking seriously to you. What 
I have to say is merely a matter of business. Your 
credit with me has reached its end. 1 will give you one 
thousand francs, and not another centime. Moreover, 
you will have to live on that sum for the next two 
months or — starve !” 

The smile vanished suddenly from Hackert’s counte- 
nance. 

“ You are jesting, of course, my dear Cadama,” he 
responded, with affected carelessness. “ Or,” with a 
sudden angry flash in his eyes, “ isn’t the interest I pay 
you high enough ?” 

“ The interest you pay me ?” ironically repeated the 


292 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


attorney. “ I have in my pocket at this moment your 
notes for one hundred and thirty thousand marks, but 
these notes are — in a business sense — not worth the 
paper on which they are written.” 

“ Not at the present time,” Hackert made haste to 
reply, “but it will be different in a few weeks. You 
know — better than I — how large is the fortune which, 
must eventually come into my hands, and will not my 
signature to those notes compel me to pay you every 
centime f" 

“ Certainly, if you come into possession of the for- 
tune,” responded the attorney, in a peculiar tone. 
“ But suppose our calculations and our plans should 
turn out to be all wrong ? Suppose we should learn 
that Lucia had, after all, been legally adopted by your 
uncle ?” 

Hackert grew deathly pale. He leaned against the 
balustrade and stared at Cadama as if he saw before 
him a ghastly and threatening specter. 

“ Are you dealing in hypotheses merely to frighten 
ihe, signor ; or — by heaven !” he exclaimed, suddenly 
seizing and clutching in an iron grasp the attorney’s 
right arm. “ What do you mean — are you jesting or in 
earnest ?” 

' “ Gently, gently, baron,” returned Cadama, releasing 

his arm from the student’s grasp. “ Marquis Du Cat 
was right ; you are intensely excited. I am not alto- 
gether in earnest. I should hardly consent to advance 
you another thousand francs if I were — but neither am 
I jesting. The fact is that we escaped total destruction 
by a single hair. The fortune almost escaped us — al- 
most, I say. I took good care to prevent such a catas- 
trophe in good time.” 

Hackert breathed more freely ; the fresh color came 
back to his face, 


COUNTER-MINING. 


293 


“ Then you were jesting when you said you would 
not lend me any more money after to-day ?” he said, in 
his usual tone. 

“ No ; I was in earnest about that — for which you 
have to thank your unpardonable extravagance. I 
have given you all my spare cash, and can offer you no 
more than the sum mentioned — one thousand francs. 
With that sum you can live quite comfortably in Nice 
for the next two months — if you are economical. In 
eight weeks, at the furthest, we shall have reached our 
goal.” 

Hackert laughed irritably. 

“ You said the same eight weeks ago. I don’t believe 
you. Moreover, I cannot live on five hundred francs a 
month. I can’t live like a beggar, and don’t mean to 
try it. If you haven’t any more money of your own, 
then borrow some ; there are a hundred sources for 
you — for me not one.” 

“ I decline to borrow money to lend to you, baron. 
I am very sorry I do not own a gold mine — ” 

“And /am tired being led around by the nose!” 
furiously interrupted the student, flinging his half- 
burned cigarette among the promenaders on the pave- 
ment below. “ If you wish to be rid of your case, well 
and good. I shall transfer it to a Berlin lawyer, who 
will, perhaps, assist me with a better grace than do 
you.” 

Cadama started. The student’s thrust had struck 
home. He must not let this shallow youth escape him, 
at least not until his latpr plan promised success. 

“ I can only reply to your threat — it is a threat, I 
presume — ” he said, quietly, “ by saying that if you wish 
to transfer your case to a Berlin lawyer, you must not 
forget to supply him with sufficient proof, else he might 
refuse to undertake it. But let us drop these little 


294 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


differences, -whicli lead to nothing. Were you to value 
money at its true worth, were you to look at life a little 
more seriously, such bickering would be unnecessary. 
Why in the world do you take so much pleasure in 
enriching the heirs of Monsieur Blanc ? If you will 
promise on your honor not to play any more, I will 
make the loan two thousand francs instead of one.” 

Hackert bit the ends of his mustache and stared 
gloomily at the crowd below him. Cadama asked what 
was impossible. 

“ I should be acting dishonorably,” he said at last, 
“ were I to give you that promise. I could not keep it. 
There is one thing, though, that I can and will prom- 
ise. If you will give me two thousand francs, I will 
not trouble you again for eight weeks. What I do with 
the money need not concern you.” 

With a sigh that was intended to express resignation 
to what could not be helped, Cadama replied : 

“ You are incorrigible, baron. Nothing remains for 
me to do but grant your request, unwilling as 1 am to 
do so. Yes, you are incorrigible !” 

“ Say, rather, too good for this wicked world,” retorted 
the student, laughing, and taking the proffered bank- 
notes without a word of thanks. “ And now, most 
worthy signor^ tell me — is this Monsieur Du Cat to be 
trusted, or is he a rogue of the ordinary stamp ?” 

Cadama deliberated a moment before replying. 

“ I don’t think he is what might be called strictly 
honest ; but he certainly is not a swindler of the ordi- 
nary stamp. I think you may safely rely on his advice 
concerning gaming.” 

When Herr Von Hackert and Signor Cadama re- 
turned to the gaming-hall, the crowds around the tables 
had thinned somewhat. It was the hour for d^jeilner^ 
and only the most zealous players yet lingered. 


COUNTER-MINING. 


295 


“ Oh, here you are again, messieurs !" exclaimed the 
Marquis Du Cat, who was standing, note-book in hand, 
in a window recess. “ I have been waiting for you. 
Shall we breakfast together at the Freres Provenceaux ?” 

“ Thanks, / haven’t time,” returned the student. 
“ The tables are not so crowded now. I want to see if 
I cannot recover my losses.” 

“Without the aid of my system ?” jestingly inquired 
Du Cat. 

“ The devil take your system !” rudely returned the 
student, hurrying toward the nearest table. 

“ If you could rid me entirely, and for all time, of 
that young coxcomb,” said Cadama in a low tone to the 
marquis, “ I should not pass the word with you about a 
thousand francs ! I dare say you are still an ‘ agent ’ 
pour tout, my dear Caradac, and will still attend to a 
little ‘business’ that does not altogether belong to the 
province of a gaming professor ?” 

The French adventurer’s features did not change 
beneath the signor’s meaning glance and question. He 
stroked his mustache, so that his hand should deaden 
his tones, and replied with a touch of dignity : 

“ I have ceased to meddle with business of question- 
able character, signor, and I certainly have no desire 
to enter into any negotiations with you again, after 
the way you cheated me in that affair of the coin- 
burglary.” 

Cadama’s face expressed surprise. He certainly had 
not expected such a rebuff after Du Cat’s cordial invi- 
tation to breakfast. Before he could reply, the marquis 
turned on his heel and walked toward Baron Von 
Menken, who at that moment entered the hall with 
Herr Waldau. 

“ Cursed Frenchman !” muttered Cadama, under his 
breath, as he stepped behind the damask curtains which 


296 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


draped the recess. “ The knave is acquainted with the 
German baron — is actually shaking hands with him 
and with the artist too ! Where and when did they 
become acquainted, I wonder ?” 

Baron Von Menken at that moment asked almost the 
same question of the marquis. 

“I see you know Signor Cadama, marquis ! Where 
did you become acquainted with him ? At the green 
table, I presume ?” 

The professor of gaming shook his head. 

“Cadama never plays,” he replied “He is too 
cowardly, and fears to trust chance. If you are inter- 
ested in the signor and want to learn anything about 
his past, I think I can give you all the information you 
want !” he concluded with a significant glance. 

Menken was unable to repress the sudden start 
caused by the words of the marquis. 

“ Thanks, monsieur! I do want some information con- 
cerning the signor's past,” he said quietly, although his 
brain was in a whirl. “ May I ask you to breakfast 
with me at the Hotel de Russie ?” 

“ I was on my way to breakfast there,” returned the 
“ professor,” bowing. “ The oysters at the Freres Pro- 
venceaux are luscious and the wines superb.” 

A few minutes later the three men were seated at a 
table in a private room of the restaurant of the Russian 
Hotel. After the waiter had served an appetizing 
breakfast and betaken himself from the room, Herr 
Von Menken took a small note-book from his pocket, 
and said : 

“You can begin now, marquis.” 

“ Begin what ?” inquired Du Cat. 

“ The information concerning Signor Cadama’s past 
life.” 

The marquis became embarrassed. He hastily 


COUNTER-MINING. 


297 


emptied his champagne glass and glanced meaningly 
toward Elimar. 

“You may speak without fear,” said Menken, under- 
standing the glance. “ Monsieur Waldau is my best 
friend, and has the same interest in Cadama that I 
have.” 

The marquis bowed and said, apologetically : 

“ I hope Monsieur Waldau will not be offended be- 
cause I hesitated to speak before him. It is all right, 
of course, if he is your friend. Monsieur Von Menken. 
Three years ago — perhaps not quite so long — I was 
obliged to leave Paris suddenly — not through any fault 
of mine, I assure you ; but a police-spy never stops to 
inquire whether you are guilty or innocent ! I went to 
Rome, where I expected to remain until the absurd 
affair which had driven me from Paris would be for- 
gotten. I had been in Rome just one day when I met, 
while promenading on the Corso, my old friend Principe 
Oreste Chiavoni. The prince — between ourselves, 
messieurs — is like so many scions of noble and illus- 
trious families ; he has degenerated sadly ! When I 
met him he told me he had unfortunately left his 
pocketbookin another pair of trousers — confidentially, 
he owned but one pair ! — and in a voice that Caesar 
might have adopted when addressing the senate, asked 
me for fifty lires to pay for a breakfast. I went with 
him to the restaurant, and when we were seated before 
our caviare and chablis, he unfolded a scheme that 
would bring us a deal of money if properly conducted. 
His scheme was for us to open a sort of commission 
agency — a bureau of information and intelligence, 
using his illustrious name as an attraction. Such a 
business could not fail to become remunerative, if con- 
ducted by persons of skill and intelligence — require- 
ments which we two surely might boast. 


298 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ To be brief. The ‘ Bureau of Accommodation,’ 
under the prestige of Principe Oreste Chiavoni, became 
so flourishing an institution that the police thought it 
necessary to keep a strict watch over our methods. But 
vigilant as were the spi.es, nothing illegal could be de- 
tected until Signor Cadama became a patron of our 
‘ agency.’ Cadama brought us trouble. The cunning 
avvocato's commission was of a rather shady nature, but 
we undertook it. It was to throw suspicion on a youth 
whom Cadama desired to get into his power. I was 
not willing to go quite to the length desired by Cadama, 
so I left all the arrangements to the prince. Just then 
a little band, every member bearing a name familiar in 
the rogues’ chronicle of the Eternal City, had planned 
to rob the coin-cabinet in the Palazzo Borghese, and 
the prince took that opportunity to execute Cadama’s 
commission. The lad in question was induced to come 
at night to the Palazzo, and while he was waiting in the 
porch, one of the thieves managed adroitly to slip a few 
of the stolen coins into the boy’s pocket. The thieves 
escaped, but the innocent youth was seized, flung into 
a carriage and taken somewhere. I know not what be- 
came of him. I only know that the person who ar- 
rested him was Cadama. The following morning I had 
some business in the Trastavere, and after several 
hour’s absence, returned to find our office in the pos- 
session of the police, who were unceremoniously exam- 
ining our books and papers. My conscience was not 
an evil one, but I did not care just then to be inter- 
viewed by the guardians of public safety. So I made 
my way at a brisk pace to Signor Cadama’s lodgings, 
supposing that I should learn from him why the police 
had taken possession of our agency. Cadama met me 
with a serene countenance. He advised me to leave 
Rome as soon as possible. He had heard that I, as 


COUNTER-MINING. 


299 


well as the prince, was to be arrested as receiver of 
stolen goods ! 

“ In my haste to escape, I neglected to punish the 
knave for getting me into such a scrape. I have never 
ceased to regret that I did not break his neck. Several 
days afterward I read in a newspaper that two of the 
thieves who had stolen the coins from the palace and 
an accomplice had been arrested and sent to prison for 
a term of years. The accomplice was Chiavoni.” 

The marquis paused long enough to drink another 
glass of wine before concluding : 

“ That, messieurs^ is perhaps one of the least harmful 
of the worthy Signor Cadama’s exploits.” 

“ Strange/’ observed Waldau, as he and Menken 
quitted the restaurant, “ that a fellow like this marquis, 
who admits that he is a rogue and a cheat, should be 
allowed to mingle with respectable people.” 

“ You will find this curious admixture of the social 
elements in all gaming resorts,” responded the baron. 
“ For us the old sinner has an incalculable value! Have 
you any idea what the name of the lad is whom Cadama 
entrapped by his clever trick ?” 

“ Not the slightest,” unsuspectingly returned the 
artist. 

“ Francisco Boccani I” 




CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE DECISIVE HOUR. 

Several days after the meeting between Baron Von 
Menken and the Marquis du Cat at Monte Carlo, Lucia 
von Hackert received a note that was handed to her 
by one of Frau Von Hilgersdorf’s servants. 

In addition to the superscription, were the words : 

“To be opened only by the person to whom addressed.” 

The note read as follows : 

“ Gracious Miss : Pardon one who is almost unknown to you 
for daring to ask for an interview. By chance I have learned a 
secret that is of the greatest importance to you. It relates to 
the hints which were mentioned in a certain article in the news- 
paper some time ago. I do not call on you because I wish to 
avoid attracting attention. If you will honor me with a quarter 
of an hour of your time in the pavilion at the Hilgersdorf Villa, 
I fancy you will not regret your trouble. The little lattice-door 
which opens from the garden on the seashore will admit you 
unnoticed by any one, except 

“ Your obedient servant, 

“Giulio Cadama.” 

For several minutes Lucia was uncertain whether 
she ought to show the note to Herr Dreyfuss or keep 
it a secret. She remembered the disagreeable impres- 
sion the writer had made on her that evening at Frau 

[300] 


THE DECISIVE HOUR. 


301 


Von Hilgersdorf’s reception. Since then she had fre- 
quently met the widow’s “ Italian teacher ” and present 
“ courier ” on the street, and familiarity with his ap- 
pearance had weakened her aversion. She was now 
no longer afraid of him, and although she disliked the 
idea of meeting him secretly, her desire to solve the 
mystery which puzzled her was so great that she con- 
cluded to defy convention, and without telling the coun- 
selor or Frau Von Sporken, meet the signor at the 
pavilion as he suggested. An excuse which would 
satisfy Frau Von Sporken was soon found, and Lucia 
set out alone on her way to the Hilgersdorf Villa. The 
sun was setting when she opened the lattice-gate, men- 
tioned by Cadama, and entered the shadowy garden. 
She was startled to see coming toward her from the 
shrubbery the form of a man, but an assuring voice 
calmed her alarm. 

“ Do not be afraid, signorina," said Cadama in a low 
tone. “ I waited here to conduct you the shortest way 
to the pavilion.” 

The room into which the signor conducted Lucia was 
small, but comfortably furnished. A thick carpet cov- 
ered the floor, and artistic ornaments were scattered 
about. 

The attorney gallantly rolled forward an easy-chair, 
but Lucia declined his invitation to be seated, and said : 

“ I am not tired, thank you, signor. I shall stop only 
long enough to hear what you have to say to me.” 

Cadama leaned against the tall back of the chair and 
cast his eyes, as if in embarrassment, on the floor. 

“ What I have to tell you, signorina, is a very serious 
matter, indeed,” he said, in a low, hesitating tone. 

Lucia’s face paled ; she shivered slightly. 

“ Whatever you have to tell, signor" she returned, 
forcing herself to speak calmly, “ I wish to hear it. 


303 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Pray, do not hesitate ; I am strong enough to hear the 
most painful truths.” 

Cadama bowed deferentially. 

“ I believe it, signorina, and admire your heroism. 
Truly, you deserve to be a scion of the brave German 
knights whose name you bear.” 

“ My father was a soldier !” with proud simplicity 
responded Lucia, who had not detected the hidden 
meaning of the signor's words. “ And I am his only 
child.” 

For an instant the attorney let his piercing eyes rest 
in silence on the young girl’s face ; then, feigning 
deepest compassion, said : 

“ No one could wish that more than I, signor ina ; but 
alas, such is not the case !” 

Lucia started violently ; her pale face crimsoned ; 
her eyes flashed ominously. 

“ Signor !" she exclaimed haughtily. “ How dare you 
speak thus to me ? Did you lure me here to -insult 
me ?” 

“ Signorina," hastily interposed Cadama, “ I beg you 
to listen quietly to me. You said only a moment ago 
that you were strong enough to hear even painful 
truths. What I have to tell you is painful, very pain- 
ful, indeed ; and it is the truth — I swear it ! You are 
not the daughter of Colonel Von Hackert-Selchern !” 

That she was to hear something very disagreeable — 
that she was to learn of some crime committed by a 
member of her family, Lucia felt in every fiber of her 
quivering frame, but the knowledge of the most hein- 
ous transgression could not have affected her so terri- 
bly as this revelation. Not the daughter of the man 
whom she had adored and revered as her father ! 
Whose very memory was dearer to her than life ! She 
had expected anything — everything but this. A rush- 


THE DECISIVE HOUR. 


303 


ing sound filled her ears ; her strength deserted her ; 
she sank, with a low cry of anguish, into the eash-chair 
she had refused to occupy. When she recovered con- 
sciousness she found that her chair had been moved to 
the open window and a travelling rug thrown over her. 
She did not know at first where she was or what had 
happened. Suddenly she remembered. She flung off 
the rug as if it were a repulsive reptile, and sat up- 
right. She was yet too weak to rise to her feet. 

Signor Cadama was seated opposite her, anxiously 
watching her. 

‘‘ Pray, signorma" he said in a gentle tone, “ pray 
remain quiet a few moments longer. You are still very 
much agitated. I cannot tell you how much it grieves 
me to cause you such sorrow. You wanted to hear the 
truth, you — ” 

“ Yes, yes,” she interrupted hastily. “ I want to hear 
the truth. I am better already. It was only the great 
surprise that made me faint for a moment. Pray go 
on and tell me all that you know about me ?” 

“ I will tell you on one condition, signorina" replied 
the signor^ rising, as Lucia, with evident difficulty, rose 
to her feet, “ and that is, that you remain seated. You 
are still very weak, in spite of your assertion to the con- 
trary,” he added with a smile. 

Lucia hesitated an instant, then resumed her seat. 
She was deathly pale, and trembled in every limb. 

The signor seated himself again, and began his re- 
cital. It was the same story he had related to Herbert 
von Hackert and Frau Von Hilgersdorf. Lucia listened 
to him in silence, breathing heavily and with difficulty. 
Her face was pallid ; her slender frame shivered from 
time to time, as with an ague. It was with difficulty 
she forced words from her colorless lips when the signor 
concluded his recital. 


304 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Herr Von Hilgersdorf,” she said, “ is dead, also the 
woman you say was my mother, consequently there is 
no one but yourself to verify the truth of this astonish- 
ing tale.” 

It was not an inquiry ; but the attorney opened his 
letter-case, took from it a yellowed paper with faded 
writing. 

“ I assisted Frau Von Hilgersdorf to arrange her de- 
ceased husband’s papers,” he said in a business-like 
tone, “ and found among them this document. It con- 
tains only a few lines, but they are of great importance. 
Allow me to read them to you, signorina” 

He cast one swift glance at the girl’s pallid face, then 
unfolded the document and read : 

“ ‘Given on the 17th day of March, 1859, in B , Canton 

Tessin, in the presence of Lieutenant Bodo Von Hilgersdorf. 
I, the undersigned, do hereby declare in the presence of the 
above-mentioned witness, that the daughter, born yesterday to 
Baron Karl von Hackert-Selchern and Anna Maria, his wife, 
died one hour after her birth. And I declare further that the 
dead infant was exchanged for the living child of Carmella 
Boccani, vivandiere in Menotti Garibaldi’s army, said living 
child to be reared by Baron Karl von Hackert-Selchern and 
known to the world as his daughter. To this declaration I 
append my name and seal. 

“ ‘ Giulio Cadama, Dr. Jur.' 

“ When I beheld these lines again, signorina” con- 
tinued the attorney, folding his paper and returning it 
to the letter-case ; “ I remembered at once that I had 
in my possession a similar document, which I had en- 
tirely forgotten. Although I, as well as Hilgersdorf, 
promised to keep the exchange of infants a secret, we 
felt it our duty, in case any legal question should ever 
arise concerning the matter, to prepare a document- 
that could be used to prove the truth of the exchange 
we had chanced to witness. As I was already at that 
time a licensed jurist, any such verification would, of 


THE DECISIVE HOUR. 


305 


course, be perfectly valid in any court of law. • I had 
forgotten all about the matter, when I received one 
day a letter from Baron Herbert von Hackert, asking 
me to come to Berlin. He desired me to undertake an 
important case for him. Frau Von Hilgersdorf — who 
seems to have a grudge against you, signortna — must 
have learned from her husband that you are not Colonel 
Von Hackert’s daughter. At least, she told the student 
so, and he — as is natural — at once determined to gain 
possession of the fortune illegally held by yourself. 
I was surprised to learn that Colonel Von Hackert had 
not legally adopted you — a neglect that certainly justi- 
fies my client in bringing suit against you. The reason 
for such a neglect must have been that the colonel did 
not want the world to know that you were not really 
his daughter. That Herbert von Hackert has not yet 
began his suit is owing to me, stgnorma. I could not 
endure the thought of compromising you.” 

Here the signor paused to observe the effect of his 
words. He had made a mistake if he expected that 
his disclosure would crush his victim. Pale as before, 
Lucia sat confronting him, her features perfectly com- 
posed. Only her dark eyes gleamed with a peculiar 
light that compelled the signor's glance to drop be- 
neath it. 

“ I presume I ought to express gratitude for your 
consideration, signor” she said calmly. “ I don’t know, 
though, why you should try to spare me ? As for your 
client’s suit, you are at liberty to begin it as soon as he 
wishes. I shall know how to meet your accusations.” 

Cadama was astounded. Was this a weak, tender 
maiden, a half-child, with delicately organized nervous 
system ? The attorney was at a loss how to read this 
enigmatic girl-nature. Strangely moved, the signor 
rose. Two crimson spots glowed on his thin cheeks. 


306 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ Your retort might satisfy me, signorma, were I 
merely a matter-of-fact man of business whose heart 
has become petrified amid the legal dust of his office. 
But such is not the case. My heart still lives and pul- 
sates with tender compassion. Have you considered 
the consequences of such a suit ? Don’t think only of 
the financial loss you will be forced to endure — remem- 
ber what the world will say ! Remember the scurrilous 
tongues of society. Think of the doors that will close 
against you the moment your true origin becomes known. 
You will be scorned, insulted ; your former friends will 
find a hundred lies to besmirch the reputation of the 
noble man who was in truth a father to you. You are 
proud, but your pride is not strong enough to endure 
all this, signorina. Pride breaks when it has to face 
calumny and poverty leagued together. Pride will 
fail you when you find yourself alone, forsaken, dis- 
graced !” 

There was deep pathos and compassionate pity in 
Cadama’s tone and manner ; but Lucia remained un- 
moved. Her voice was as firm as before when she re- 
plied : 

“ There is a pride, signor, that nothing can break — a 
pride that can bear anything — everything. Such a 
pride is mine.” 

“Those are daring words, signorina. Perhaps you 
entertain a hope that the suit will not be brought ? 
Perhaps, indeed, you imagine that what I told you is 
untrue ?” 

Lucia sprang suddenly to her feet. 

“ No, signor" she exclaimed, with flaming eyes, “ I 
imagine nothing ! I knoiv that what you have told me 
is a silly fable ! I have more faith in the voice of my 
heart than in that document, which may be a forgery 
for aught I know.” 


THE DECISIVE HOUR. 


307 


Cadama started violently. A deep flush crimsoned 
his face. 

“ Very well, signor ina," he returned, in a voice that 
trembled with repressed anger. “ I take up the glove 
you have flung at my feet ! You do not believe me — 
then a court of justice shall decide whether I have told 
the truth or not. But I have still another proof. Your 
mother, Carmella Boccani, had another child — a boy 
who is called Francisco. This boy has been near you 
for the last six months — he is Baron Von Menken’s 
servant, the Francisco whose resemblance to you is so 
unmistakable.” 

For an instant Lucia stared speechlessly at the 
speaker. Then she covered her face with her hands 
and sank back into her chair moaning : 

“Francisco! Yes — yes — it must be true! Father! 
Father ! Father !” she cried aloud, in an agony of grief 
and passionate despair. 

With triumph gleaming in his eyes, Cadama looked 
down upon the trembling girl. He had conquered at 
last ! 

He moved softly toward her, bent one knee, and rest- 
ing his hand on the arm of her chair, said in a low tone : 

“ Don’t yield to despair, signorina — all is not yet lost. 
I have the power to save you from disgrace and beg- 
gary. The papers which can rob you of your father 
and your fortune are in my hands. If I toss them into 
the fire, the only proofs that you are not Colonel Von 
Hackert’s daughter will be destroyed, for not even 
Francisco has the means to prove that he is your 
brother. If I burn those fateful papers, that dissolute 
student, Herbert von Hackert may urge his claim in 
vain ; that envious beauty, Frau Von Hilgersdorf may 
sow her poisonous seed in vain. One word from you, 
Lucia, and those papers will burn to ashes in yonder 


308 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


grate. Lucia, Lucia, I love you, and want you for my 
own ! In my beautiful land — in dear sunny Italy, we 
will forget all sorrow. You shall be as happy as the 
day is long, and you will learn to love me in return. 
Speak the word I am yearning to hear from your lips, 
Lucia — the word which will make me happy and re- 
lease you from poverty and disgrace.” 

He had drawn the half-unconscious girl’s hands from 
her face and was about to press them to his lips, when 
the door of the adjoining room was flung open and 
Francisco sprang to his side, 

“ Scoundrel !” exclaimed the lad, seizing the signor's 
collar in a grasp of iron and lifting him to his feet. 
“ Enough of this ! Enough of your lies — your shame- 
less juggling ! Knave — villain ! You shall feel the 
weight of my arm — the arm of an innocent boy whom 
you would make a criminal in order to gain your ras- 
cally ends ! You shall feel how I can revenge a wrong 
before a court of justice pronounces sentence on you !” 

The blow from the lad’s uplifted fist would have 
fallen with terrible force on the startled attorney’s 
pale face had not another arm intercepted it. In his 
savage fury, Francisco had not heard Baron Von Men- 
ken and Elimar Waldau, who had burst into the room 
almost at the same moment with himself. 

“ Is this the way you obey my orders, Francisco ?” 
sternly demanded Menken, catching the lad’s swiftly 
descending arm in a firm grasp, while Elimar bent 
solicitously over the fainting girl. “ You ought to be 
ashamed to soil your hands punishing such a mis- 
creant. Release the scoundrel !” 

With a burning face and quivering in every limb, 
Francisco obeyed, and loosed his grasp on the signor's 
collar. The latter, realizing that all danger from the 
infuriated lad was past, instantly regained his usual 


THE DECISIVE HOUR. 


309 


composure. He adjusted his rumpled collar and cravat, 
then, drawing himself to his full height, turned toward 
Baron Von Menken and demanded imperiously; 

“ Who gave you the right, baron, to intrude like a 
bandit into my apartments ? Were you alone I should 
teach you how to enter a gentleman's private chamber, 
but you took good care to come well attended,” he con- 
cluded, with an insolent glance toward Waldau. 

The veins in Menken’s forehead stood out like thick 
cords — he was fearfully excited. But he regained in- 
stant control of himself, and said, in his usual quiet 
tone : 

“You are a scoundrel, Giulio Cadama. That is my 
reply to your impudence. I have no further business 
with you. If you have any more rhetoric at your com- 
mand save it for the court of justice, where you will 
have to answer the charges of swindling, forgery and 
receiver of stolen goods.” 

The attorney’s face became a shade paler ; but his 
sneering laugh and words were as insolent as before : 

“ Do you imagine, baron, that you are talking to a 
school-boy, whom you can frighten with empty threats ? 
How dare you,” he added with a malicious grin, “ in- 
terrupt a private interview between myself and that 
young lady — ” 

“ If you dare utter another word in such a tone 
about the lady I will break every bone in your misera- 
ble body?” with sudden fierce anger interrupted the 
baron, coming so close to the attorney that the latter 
involuntarily retreated several paces. “ By some 
rascally means you lured Fraulein Von Hackert — ” 

He was continuing, when the signor, in turn, inter- 
rupted in a sneering tone : 

“Fraulein von Hackert? There is no Fraulein Von 
Hackert. The colonel’s only child lies buried by the 


310 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Ticino, and the young woman whom it pleases you to 
eall by that name is the daughter of a beggar. Arrest — 
imprison me if you like, it will not prevent me from 
wrenching the coronet from the brow of yon haughty 
hussy — ” 

Quick as a flash Menken seized the speaker by the 
throat and flung him on his knees. Every vestige of 
color had vanished from the baron’s face. 

“ You miserable cur !” he gasped, and unable longer 
to restrain his anger, he shook the Italian as if he were 
but a reed in his hands. “ You cowardly knave ! You 
dug your own grave when you sought to ruin an in- 
nocent lad in order to carry out your scoundrelly de- 
signs ! But all your plans are discovered and frustrated, 
thank heaven ! And but one more proof is required to 
make your imprisonment for the remainder of your 
wretched life certain ! Marquis Du Cat !” he called ; 
and, as if the summons had been momentarily ex- 
pected, the professor of gaming instantly appeared in 
the doorway, a sardonic smile on his painted lips ; his 
right hand grasping a slender walking-stick, his left 
toying with the costly charms on his watch-chain. “ Can 
you,” continued the baron, retaining his hold on the 
attorney’s collar. “ Can you prove that Giulio Cadama, 
in an agreement with Oreste Chiavoni, favored the 
coin-theft in the Palazzo Borghese, on the 12th of Sep- 
tember, 1879 ; and out of self-interested motives ac- 
cused an innocent person of being an accomplice of the 
burglars.” 

“ Yes, baron, I can prove it,” replied the marquis, 
nodding his carefully curled head. “ I can also furnish 
further proof, if desired. The Principe Oreste Chiavoni 
is ready, at any time, to corroborate my statements.” 

The howl of rage which came from the lips of the de- 
feated Italian was interrupted by Francisco’s eager voice; 


THE DECISIVE HOUR. 


311 


“ Signor Cadama will not be able to deny that he par- 
ticipated in the theft at the Palazzo. Five of the valu- 
able coins which were stolen from the numismatic 
cabinet are in the bronze casket on the mantel yonder.” 

“ Bestia /” shrieked the attorney ; but Menken al- 
ready had the casket in his hands. The key was in the 
lock, for Cadama, shortly before Lucia arrived, had 
opened the casket to get some papers it contained. 

Without a word, Menken took the coins and walked 
to the door. Two gendarmes stood just outside, their 
carbines resting on their arms. One of them took pos- 
session of the coins, the other wrote the names of the 
witnesses in a little note-book. Then the two stalwart 
fellows strode toward Cadama and placed themselves 
one on his right, the other on his left. 

“ If the signor will come willingly with us we will 
not manacle him,” said the one who was evidently the 
superior of his comrade. “ It is only a short distance 
to the guard-house, where the signor will have to stay 
until to-morrow.” 

Cadama, seeing that resistance was useless, yielded 
submissively to his captors. At the door, however, he 
turned, and letting his eyes, in which there was an ex- 
pression of mingled hate and rage, rest on Baron Von 
Menken, said in a threatening tone : 

“ We shall meet again, baron, when we will settle ac- 
counts !” 

Menken made no reply. He walked without another 
glance toward the signor inio ih.e adjoining room, where 
Waldau had carried the unconscious Lucia. There was 
nothing to be done but to wrap the poor girl in shawls 
and carry her back to the counselor’s villa. She must 
not remain longer in the pavilion, where some of Frau 
Von Hilgersdorf’s servants might find her any mo- 
ment. 


V 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

HILGERSDORF VILLA. 

The night was very dark. The little lantern carried 
by one of Signor Cadama’s captors was insufficient to 
light the way for the three men. They were, there- 
fore compelled to proceed very slowly along the road, 
which the late rains had washed out and rendered diffi- 
cult of passage. 

The wily signor had not got far beyond the gates of 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf’s villa when he began to plan an- 
escape. 

The two sturdy fellows accompanying him made a 
forcible escape impossible. Cunning alone could aid 
him here. 

With a keen eye Cadama peered right and left. He 
was familiar with the neighborhood. The guard-house 
in which he was to spend the night stood hard by the 
roadside, only about a quarter of a mile distant. Dense 
shrubbery lined one side of the road ; beyond stretched 
a labyrinth of villa-gardens, pleasure-grounds and 
parks. 

“ Curse this darkness !” muttered the lantern-bearer, 
halting. He lifted the slide of the lantern to raise the 
[312] 


HILGERSDORF VILLA. 


313 


wick, when a sudden gust of wind extinguished the 
tiny flame. 

Now was Cadama’s opportunity. With a sudden 
dexterous movement he dodged behind the gendarme 
on his right, and dashed into the shrubbery. 

“ Hold him ! Catch him !” cried the gendarmes in 
unison, starting in pursuit and both tumbling igno- 
minously into the ditch by the roadside. 

While the captors were struggling in the mire, their 
escaped captive forced his way through the dripping 
bushes. The thorns tore his face, his hands and clothes, 
but he heeded them not. After awhile he stopped to 
breathe and listen if his captors were following. He 
could hear them curse and fume on the further side of 
the dense hedge which separated the place on which he 
stood from the highway ; could hear them blame each 
other for his escape — then their voices died away in the 
distance. 

Cadama rejoiced, for his calling had taught him what 
to expect of an Italian officer of the law ; he knew he 
had nothing further to fear — for that night at least. 
He now cast a searching glance about him. It was not 
easy to tell just where he was, but he very soon dis- 
covered a way out of the labyrinth. Directly in front 
of him rose the white walls of a villa that was familiar 
to him. He groped his way along the graveled path 
to the house from which he knew a carriage road led to 
the highway. 

He soon found the road, and once on it, stepped out 
briskly, without fear of encountering any pedestrians 
on this rainy dark night. Very soon the outlines of 
houses rose before him. On his right lay the Castig- 
linoli quarter, on the left the Church of the Madonna 
della Costa, whose snowy walls gleamed distinctly 
through the darkness. 


314 


INVISIBLE HANDS, 


Cadama walked rapidly through the streets and 
halted at last in front of a low, weather-beaten dwell- 
ing. A faded sign above the doorway gave the passer- 
by to understand that “ Pietro Corali, dealer in French 
and native wines,” dwelt here. 

Cadama lifted the rusty knocker and let it fall sharply 
against the door. The inmates of the house were still 
awake. A voice was heard inside grumbling : 

“ Maledetto ! Who can that be at this late hour ?” 

“ Open the door, Pietro,” called Cadama, placing his 
lips close to the keyhole. “ Open the door to the man 
who won your suit for you.” 

Instantly the bolt was drawn, the door swung back, 
and a bright light fell from the interior of the room on 
the signor. 

“ Santa Madonna !" ejaculated the owner of the wine 
shop. “ Whence come you, and what is the matter. 
Signor Cadama ?” 

“ Let me come in first,” rather impatiently responded 
the attorney, stepping across the threshold, “ then you 
shall hear everything. Give me a dry coat and a glass 
of hot wine. I am drenched to the skin.” 

He sank exhausted into a chair, and old Pietro has- 
tened to supply the wants of his guest. The dressing- 
gown he produced was ragged and soiled ; and the 
huge felt slippers, worn and old, but both served their 
purpose, as did the excellent mulled wine Pietro pre- 
pared over a spirit lamp. 

“ I am pursued, old man,” remarked Cadama, after 
he had swallowed a tumblerful of the hot wine. “Why 
I am pursued cannot interest you. What I want you 
to do for me is to hide me for twenty-four hours in one 
of the many secret nests you have in this old rookery, 
and at the end of that time send me out so disguised 
that my own mother would not recognize me. You 


HILGERSDORF VILLA. 


315 


know you will not lose anything- by lending me your 
aid ?” 

Pietro merely nodded. He understood what was de- 
sired of him. 

Early the next morning Baron Von Menken learned 
from one of the gendarmes that the prisoner had es- 
caped. The baron’s sensations may be imagined. He 
dressed himself hurriedly and hastened to the room 
occupied by the Marquis Du Cat, who lodged for the 
night in the same hotel. 

The marquis had not yet risen. He lay in bed with 
a night-cap drawn down over his ears, divested of all 
his artificial attractions, and was not a little indignant 
that the porter should have admitted Herr Von Menken 
without first inquiring whether he was ready to receive 
visitors. 

The baron paid no attention to Monsieur Du Cat’s 
voluble apologies, but began at once : 

“Cadama has escaped!” he said curtly. “Those 
donkeys of gendarmes allowed him to run away, I 
dare say he will conceal himself in Frau Von Hilgers- 
dorf ’s villa until an opportunity occurs for him to leave 
San Remo secretly. We must call immediately on the 
widow, and wire your friend Fratti to come here by 
first train.” 

“ I am at your command, monsieur,” responded a 
muffled voice from the bedclothes. “ I am always 
ready for a row of this sort.” 

Menken seated himself at the table and wrote his 
message. 

“ Emmanuels Fratti, 

“Mentone, Quartier St. Roche. 

“Come without fail on first train. Important business. 

“ Caradac.” 

The telegram was sent off at once ; and punctually, 


316 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


at ten o’clock, the man who had been summoned thus 
hastily, arrived at the Hotel de la Paix, San Remo. 
A very few minutes afterward Herr Von Menken, ac- 
companied by the marquis and his friend and the two 
gendarmes^ set out for the Hilgersdorf Villa. 

vSignor Fratti was an active, undersized man, with 
a pair of cunning eyes, and with the engaging manner 
of a polished man of the world. He spoke German 
with great difficulty ; but boasted with so much pride 
of his accomplishment, that Herr Von Menken could 
hardly restrain his laughter while listening to the 
strange gibberish the little cavalier was pleased to call 
“ the baron tongue.” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf, becomingly arrayed in a 
snowy morning-gown, had just stepped out on her bal- 
cony when Baron Von Menken and his companions en- 
tered her garden. That she was greatly surprised to 
see the little company — two of them police officers — 
may be imagined. She had just risen, and had not yet 
heard of the occurrence in the pavilion the preceding 
evening. 

While the gendarmes stationed themselves at the en- 
trance-door and the two knights of the green table 
waited in the hall, Herr Von Menken sent up his card 
to the mistress of the house. 

Although her pride prompted her to refuse to see the 
baron, the fair widow was too curious to learn the ob- 
ject of his singular visit. She received him, therefore, 
but with a frigid politeness that was equalled by Herr 
Von Menken’s cold courtesy. 

“ That I am surprised to receive a visit from you at 
this early hour you will understand, Herr Von Men- 
ken,” she said, after the conventional salutations had 
been exchanged. “Who are your companions, and 
what means the very singular escort of police officers ?” 


HILGERSDORF VILLA. 


317 


“ We have come to search your house, gracious lady,” 
bluntly replied the baron. “ You are suspected of con- 
cealing a dangerous swindler and forger, who was ar- 
rested in your pavilion last night, but who escaped 
while on the way to the guard-house.” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf became pale as death ; she 
laid her hand against her rapidly beating heart, as if to 
quiet its pulsations. For an instant she was terribly 
frightened, but only for an instant. The next her ter- 
ror gave place to indignation. 

“ I don’t think you know what you are saying, baron,” 
she exclaimed, with angry hauteur, surveying her vis- 
itor with flashing eyes. “ What have I in common with 
swindlers and forgers ? How dare you come here to 
insult me ?” 

She stepped to the bell and was about to ring for a 
servant, but the baron quickly laid a restraining hand 
on her arm. 

“ Hold — don’t ring for witnesses !” he said, in astern 
tone, that contained a warning sound. “ The fewer 
persons to know of this affair the better for you ! 
Your ‘courier’ and ‘Italian teacher,’ Signor Cadama, 
was arrested yesterday evening on th« charge of swin- 
dling and forgery. He escaped from the guard on the 
way to prison ; and as he is known to be an inmate of 
this house and on intimate terms with its mistress, it is 
supposed that he is hiding here — with or without your 
consent, Frau Von Hilgersdorf.” 

The widow’s hands trembled, but there was no other 
outward indication of her excitement. She took a 
small ornament from the table near her and toyed with 
it as she spoke : 

“ Your accusations amuse me, baron,” she returned, 
forcing a smile to her lips. “ I confess it is rather un- 
pleasant to learn that the person, whose presence one 


318 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


has tolerated, proves to be a rogue ; but I deny your 
insulting assertion that Signor Cadama was on intimate 
terms with me. The man was a sort of upper servant, 
and was always treated as such.” 

“ Notwithstanding your assertion,” coolly responded 
the baron, “ I am afraid you will have to appear before 
a court of justice as being privy to Cadama’s forgeries. 
The signor received from your hands various letters of 
your husband’s, from which he was enabled to make 
some clever forgeries. You will hardly deny, madam, 
that you are ignorant of the motive for the forgeries, 
or that you gave him the letters of your own free 
will ?” 

Frau Ilona pressed the fragile ornament with such 
force between her palms that it was crushed to pieces. 

“ What ridiculous nonsense !” she ejaculated ; but her 
lips lost their color and trembled slightly. Cadama 
was recommended to me as an honest person whom I 
could trust to arrange my deceased husband’s papers. 
If he abused my confidence in so shameless a manner 
then I ought to be pitied instead of accused of being 
his accomplice ? I think our interview, Herr Von 
Menken, may terminate here. My nerves have endured 
enough. A servant will conduct your gensdarmes 
through the house. Or,” she added with a sneer, “ do 
you demand that I conduct the search in person ?” 

Herr Von Menken ignored the sneer. His face re- 
mained ' stern ; but there was a trace of contempt 
around his broad, firm mouth. 

“At any other time, Frau Von Hilgersdorf,” he said 
coldly, “ I should respect your indisposition — to-day, 
however, I must insist that you hear me to the end. 
Your nerves were not too delicate to prevent your 
planning with a crafty scoundrel to ruin an innocent 
girl — to tear her from wealth and a lofty social posi- 


milgersdorf' villa. 


319 


tion, and fling her into poverty and disgrace. Your 
nerves were strong enough to permit a forgery to be 
made under your eyes. You did not dream that watch- 
ful friends guarded the poor girl whom you sought to 
ruin, and who might justly claim much of the fortune 
now belonging to you, but which was obtained by un- 
fair means by the man whose name you bear — ” 

“Herr Von Menken !” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf almost shrieked the name in 
her furious rage. Her eyes blazed ; she flung the 
crumbled ornament from her and stamped her feet on 
the carpet. 

Were I a man,” she continued, trembling with 
fury, “ my reply to your insulting language would come 
from the muzzle of a pistol. I am only a defenseless 
woman, consequently you insult me with impunity. I 
demand an explanation of your shameful accusation, 
Herr Von Menken — and I demand your proofs also !” 

Without a word the baron stepped to the door, opened 
it and called : 

“ Signor Fratti !” 

The old gamester entered and bowed with courtly 
grace to the widow. 

“ Signor Fratti,” continued Menken, “ tell this lady 
of your acquaintance with Herr Von Hilgersdorf, and 
be particular to mention the episode which robbed 
young Annibile Faresi of his own and his sister’s for- 
tune and cost him his life.” 

Fratti bowed again ; then he began to relate what 
the reader has already learned from the Marquis Du 
Cat. He spoke simply and in a straightforward man- 
ner, without exaggeration, without casting unnecessary 
ignominy on the questionable memory of the deceased 
general, and without shielding himself. 

“ Two of our comrades and myself,” he said in con- 


320 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


elusion, “ were sent to prison for three years. Hilgers- 
dorf made his escape from Rome in good time. If the 
signora doubts my word, I am willing to produce satis- 
factory proofs. I have a number of letters which I 
received from her husband relating to the affair. 
I have preserved these letters carefully, for I believed I 
might sometime have occasion to use them.” 

Herr Von Menken thanked the sigfior, who bowed 
and quitted the room. Then the baron turned to Frau 
Ilona, who had not uttered a syllable during the gam- 
bler’s recital, and said : 

“ Signor Fratti’s confession, madam, becomes signifi- 
cant when we remember that Annibile Faresi was the 
guardian and brother of Carmella Boccani, Lucia’s 
mother.” 

A scornful smile played around Frau Von Hilgers- 
dorf’s lips. She tossed her head with an arrogant 
gesture. 

“ Beg pardon, baron,” she interposed flippantly, ‘’ but 
you must allow me to correct the romantic statement 
of your honorable friend. The girl who imposes her- 
self on good society as the daughter of Colonel Von 
Hackert-Selchern is not the descendant of a Roman 
banker — she is the daughter of a nameless vagrant !” 

“ Your informant lied when he told you that, madam. 
Cadama was cunning enough to know that he could 
more easily influence your hatred of Fraulein Lucia if 
he placed her ancestors in a shepherd’s hut on the cam- 
pagna, instead of a patrician home. The signor is no 
ordinary rogue. What he does is carefully planned, 
and he had his reasons for making you believe Lucia 
the child of vagrant parents. The church register of 
San Maria Maggiore in Rome will convince you of the 
contrary. In conclusion, madam, I must correct your 
assertion that Fraulein Lucia ‘ imposes ’ herself on society 



LUX EXSCONCEn HERSELF THEREIN.-, See Page. 347 . 



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Hilgersdorf villa. 


321 


as the daughter of Colonel Von Hackert-Selchern. She 
is legally his daughter. She was adopted by law in the 
second year of her age.” 

Frau Von Hilgersdorf smiled disdainfully. 

“ As if that could change the blood in her veins !”she 
exclaimed contemptuously. “ One can easily see that 
she is low-born. Thank Heaven, society will know now 
to distinguish between the vulgar graft and the genu- 
ine scion !” 

Menken drew his powerful frame to its full height at 
this implied threat. At this moment he looked quite 
like a knight of the olden time. 

“ Blue blood, madam,” he responded in a cutting 
tone, “ can become tainted and poisonous, and the 
canker-worm of ignoble pride often destroys the 
genuine scion. The proudest name sometimes be- 
comes tarnished with dishonor — as witness the one 
you bear ! I am sorry to be obliged to speak thus to a 
woman. I did not come here to quarrel with you nor 
to insult you, but to warn you. You hate Lucia von 
Hackert ; and when Cadama, your accomplice, is ren- 
dered harmless, will seek by scandalous reports to 
ruin her reputation. /, madam, have sworn to guard 
her against her enemies, and I must use the only avail- 
able weapons. I say, therefore, that the moment I 
hear any scandalous stories concerning Lucia’s birth, 
that moment the world shall learn of the disgrace 
which besmirches the name of Hilgersdorf ! I am in 
earnest, Frau Von Hilgersdorf, when I swear that I 
will punish a7iy one who dares defame the helpless 
and innocent girl ! You may take your choice : Either 
you will continue to treat Lucia with the respect she 
deserves, or you will be publicly stigmatized as the 
widow of a cheat, to whom only a lucky chance gave a 
soldier’s uniform instead of the criminal’s blouse !” 


322 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


With a sudden exclamation Frau Von Hilgersdorf 
covered her face with her hands and sank into a chair, 

“ Enough ! Enough !” she gasped. “You can go ! 
No evil word against your charge shall ever cross my 
lips ! I promise, on my honor ! Have pity on me now 
— and go !” 

Menken bowed, and without another word turned 
and left the room. He found the professors of gaming 
chatting pleasantly together. 

“ 1 was not obliged fo call upon you, marquis,” he 
said to the old Frenchman, whose countenance ex- 
hibited regret. He had not, after all, been allowed to 
participate in the “row.” “We settled the matter 
without your ; but I am indebted to you all the same, 
and to you also, Signor Fratti. You will oblige me 
further by not mentioning anything you have heard or 
know of General Von Hilgersdorf ’s past.” 

The promise was given readily; then the baron turned 
to the gendarmes : 

“ Frau Von Hilgersdorf ’s servant will conduct you 
through the house. Let your search be thorough, but 
do not in any way molest the lady of the house.” 

An hour later one of the gendarmes appeared before 
Menken at the Hotel de la Paix and announced that 
the search had been in vain. Cadama was nowhere to 
be found. 




CHAPTER XXV. 

“ RIEN NE VA plus!” 

A golden light from the evening sun trembled on 
the waves of the blue sea and was reflected in the 
plate-glass windows of the Casino at Monte Carlo. 
The lamps in front of the Casino were already lighted, 
and as the twilight deepened into darkness, the gas 
jets became more numerous, until at last the entire ter- 
race was illuminated with points of light which were 
reflected in the dancing waves like a swarm of jack-o’- 
lanterns. 

On the lowermost step of the marble staircase which 
led to the vestibule of the Casino, crouched a hump- 
backed man with a basket in which there was a few 
roses. He was clad in the garb of a peasant ; his 
knee-breeches were patched and faded, worn leather 
sandals were bound with thongs on his feet, which 
were covered with coarse stockings. A black felt hat 
was drawn down over his forehead, and a handkerchief 
bandaged one eye. He seemed to have had luck in dis- 
posing of his flowers, for his basket was almost empty. 
It was not pity for his abject appearance which had 
prompted his patrons to buy the roses, but the super- 
stition of a gambler, who sees in every hump-backed 
person an augury of good luck. 


[323] 


324 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


The flower-seller’s unbandaged eye from time to 
time glanced sharply from beneath the protecting hat 
rim toward the gallery in front of the Casino, when a 
young man with flushed face, and hollow eyes now ap- 
peared. He pushed back his hat to let the cool night 
air blow over his feverish brow, thrust both hands into 
the pockets of his short coat, and descended the stair- 
case. 

“ Buy a flower, young sir !” in a whining voice ex- 
claimed the rose-seller. The young man halted and 
looked searchingly down at him, as if he had detected 
something familiar in the tones. 

The peasant now selected a yellow rose from his 
basket, rose to his feet and came closer to the young 
man, saying : 

“ Only a franc, good sir.” Then he added in a 
whisper: “You needn’t look so astonished, my dear 
baron, it is myself, and no mistake ! I want you to 
meet me under the carob-trees in the main alley at 
midnight, I have something important to say to you.” 

Herbert von Hackert nodded, took the rose, and 
tossed a coin into the basket. Then he sauntered to 
one of the tables in front of the Cafe de Paris and 
seated himself. The franc he offered in payment for 
the glass of absinthe ordered was the last of the sum 
which Cadama had given him and which he had 
promised should be the last he would ask for for eight 
weeks ! But the frivolous youth experienced no regret 
for his folly — no regret that he had sacrificed his last 
gold piece to the Moloch of the green table. The gold 
mine Cadama had taught him to consider his own, had 
turned his brain, and he did not in the least doubt but 
the signor would again assist him to float his stranded 
financial ship. 

Hackert looked at the clock ; the hands marked the 


RIEN NE VA PLUS ! 


325 


hour of eleven — the time for closing the Casino. He 
emptied his glass, pulled his hat over his eyes and left 
the caf^. 

The lamps in the boscage were extinguished, but a 
crowd of people still lingered in the square in front of 
the gaming hall. They stood about in groups or prom- 
enaded about the rotunda, with its fan-palms, agaves 
and camellias. 

The student made his way slowly through the crowd. 
He had nothing to do until the appointed meeting 
under the carob-trees ; he, therefore, occupied his time 
staring into the faces of his fellow-promenaders and 
listening to the animated conversation going on around 
him. 

At last the company began to thin out. Some went 
into the caf^s to smoke a last cigarette over a cup of 

noir others went to a restaurant to enjoy a late 
supper. The square gradually became deserted, and 
when the last promenader disappeared beyond the 
glass doors of the “ Beau-Rivage Hotel,” Herbert von 
Hackert turned his steps toward the gnarled trunks of 
the carobs. 

The student’s sharp eyes at once perceived the dis- 
guised attorney amid the shadows. Cadama was pacing 
restlessly to and fro. 

Salve !” in a jocular tone saluted Hackert, ap- 
proaching Cadama and slapping him on the stuffed 
back. “ You look devilish droll with that hump be- 
tween your shoulders. I should not have recognized 
you but for your voice. What the deuce prompted you 
to don this carnival costume — eh ?” 

“ The game is up ! Rten ne va phis !" briefly re- 
sponded the attorney, and Hackert was startled by his 
peculiar tone. 

“ What — what do you mean, my dear fellow ?” asked 


326 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


the student, becoming suddenly serious under a dav^m- 
ing apprehension of evil. 

“We risked everything on one card and have lost, 
baron. We can now shake our empty pockets and get 
away from here as best we can.” 

“ Oh,” with a shrug, responded the student, not yet 
comprehending Cadama’s meaning, “ is that what is the 
matter with you ? If your pockets are empty, there ’s 
a pair of us — my last coin went under the croupier’s 
rake. You might stand me on my head and not a sin- 
gle franc would slip from my pockets. But, jesting 
aside, my dear fellow, you must make haste and put an 
end to this condition of affairs. Can’t you settle that 
little matter at once ?” 

“ It is settled,” interposed Cadama ; “ and, unfortun- 
ately, the finale is not what we expected. Instead of 
supplying you with any more money, I must beg that 
you repay me as soon as possible the sums I have ad- 
vanced you from time to time.” 

For several seconds the student stared fixedly at Ca- 
dama’s pale face, then he said slowly ; 

“ You must be mad !” 

“ I am — mad with rage at my defeat, mad with fury 
at my ill-luck, mad with shame at my stupidity ! Rien 
ne va plus, I said a moment ago. The game is up ! 
There is no more hope for you or for me ! Fraulein 
Lucia Von Hackert is the daughter by adoption of your 
uncle, consequently his legal heir.” 

Hackert stared at the speaker as if he had 'not heard 
aright. He could not believe that his gold mine had 
vanished — could not believe that the hope which had 
buoyed him for so many months could vanish thus in a 
moment. It was too horrible ! 

“ What are you chattering about ?” he demanded, 
brusquely, his eyes burning into Cadama’s distorted 


RIEN NE VA PLUS !” 


327 


face. “You cannot — cannot, I say, be speaking the 
truth. Cease jesting, Cadama, for God’s sake, and tell 
me plainly what has happened ?” 

The Italian laughed harshly. 

“ I never felt less like jesting than now, my dear 
fellow,” he returned. “ What I told you is the truth — 
the cruel truth ! Our case is lost — we can do nothing 
against Lucia, for she is the legally adopted child of 
your uncle, who had the legal papers executed when 
Lucia was only two years old.” 

Hackert staggered as if he had received a blow that 
stunned him. He leaned, half imconscious, against the 
pedestal of a marble Satyr, whose pallid countenance 
grinned sardonically down on him. 

Lost ? Really and truly lost ? No more money for 
the pleasures of the green table ? No more money for 
champagne — for Havanas ? No more money to win 
back what had gone under the croupier’s rake, over 
yonder in Satan’s palace ? Lost — lost — lost ! 

What now ? 

The stunned youth was unable to frame a reply to 
this terrible question. He looked at the cold, sneering 
face of the man who had deceived him, and then a sav- 
age fury took possession of him. 

“ Who is to blame for our defeat ? Who is to blame 
if all our fine plans have vanished in smoke ?” he cried 
angrily. “ Who is to blame but you — you who can 
boast without acting ! You are a man of words, with- 
out deeds ! Had you intimated that Lucia might be 
old Hackert’s adopted daughter when you came to me 
first with your lies, I shouldhave kicked you outof doors!” 

“ Which you might not have been able to do,” with a 
sneering smile supplemented Cadama. “Before you 
talk of kicking me out of your door, baron, I should 
like to remind you that you owe me one hundred and 


328 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


thirty thousand marks — for which sum I have your notes 
in my pocket.” 

“ You told me only a short time ago that my notes, 
were not worth the paper on which they were written,” 
with an evil smile retorted the student. 

“ I had my reasons for telling you so then. To-day 
matters are different. According to your uncle’s will, 
you are not to receive the twenty thousand dollars he 
bequeaths you until you marry ; but that does not 
prevent your creditors from attaching it.” 

“Suppose you try it,” interposed the student. 

“ I have alreadv done so,” replied Cadama, coolly 
surveying him. 

“You are lying!” exclaimed Hackert. “You are 
lying to frighten me ! You would not rob me of the 
last penny I have in the world ?” 

“Charity, my dear baron, begins at home. The 
twenty thousand dollars are not half the amount I can 
legally demand of you.” 

“ It is a deal more than I ever got from you !” re- 
torted the student. 

“You were at liberty to accept or refuse my money 
at the interest I demanded.” 

Hackert folded his arms and stared in silence at the 
graveled walk, on which the moonlight was falling 
through the interstices of the branches overhead. 

“ Then I am a penniless beggar ?” he muttered, as if 
to himself. 

“ I believe that is what you might be called,” assented 
Cadama in an indifferent tone. 

“ And can starve — perish miserably !” 

“ If you will not work — ” 

Cadama was not permitted to complete his mocking 
response. The infuriated student’s hands were around 
his throat, choking back further utterance. 


RIEN NE VA PLUS !” 


329 


Unprepared for the sudden attack, the signor fell 
heavily backward. A muffled groan broke the silence 
of the night. The feathered and winged creatures, 
which had sought shelter in the lower branches of the 
carob-trees, flew excitedly hither and thither. 

In the struggle with his adversary, Cadama had 
managed to slip his hand into his breast pocket. The 
next instant something glittered in the moonlight. 
Hackert saw the threatening pistol muzzle close to his 
face, and was just in time to dash it down with a swift 
blow. As he did so a shot rang out. A sharp cry 
from the Italian told what had happened. The next 
moment he lay perfectly still on the ground. 

With staring eyes and face haggard with horror the 

student sprang to his feet and dashed into the shrubbery. 
******* 

Two men who were walking from the railway station 
heard the pistol shot. Monsieur Du Cat and Signor 
Fratti halted and looked inquiringly at each other. 

“The sound came from over yonder,” said Fratti, 
pointing* toward the carob-trees. “Some wretch, I 
dare say, who has lost his last franc at the gaming- 
table and seeks relief from life’s cares by putting a 
bullet into his brain. That spot seems the favorite 
place for Monte Carlo’s suicides." 

“ Let us go over,” suggested the good-natured mar- 
quis, “ perhaps the unfortunate fellow is still alive.” 

Fratti nodded, and the two hurried in the direction 
of the carob-trees. 

“ It is as dark as Egypt here !” observed Du Cat, 
moving carefully when they got into the shadow of the 
trees. “ We must be careful, or we shall — ” 

He was interrupted by his companion, who uttered a 
startled cry : 

“ Here he is ! Come here, Caradac, and help lift him 


330 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


Up. It ’s all over with the poor wretch, I ’m afraid.” 

The two men dragged the apparently lifeless form 
into the moonlight. 

“/V/” bacco!" ejaculated the signor, peering into the 
ghastly face. “ I believe it is that hump-backed peas- 
ant who was selling roses in front of the Casino this 
afternoon.” 

The marquis in turned stooped and looked closely at 
the pallid face upturned in the moonlight. 

“Well ?” he muttered under his breath, while a sud- 
den chill shook his frame. “ I am almost compelled to 
believe there is such a thing as retribution ! Come 
Fratti, let us carry the fellow to the hotel — he still 
breaths. Philibert will take him in.” 

M. Philibert was a shrewd landlord, and at first re- 
fused to receive the dying man ; but the two old gamblers 
had brought him so much custom that he yielded at last 
to their importunities, and allowed Cadama to be car- 
ried into a room and laid on a bed. Then Du Cat sent 
for a doctor. 

“ A serious case,” said the doctor, with a wise air. 
“ A very serious case, indeed, and a singular wound to 
be self-inflicted. The ball struck the third rib from 
above, then took an oblique direction and lodged near 
the lung. The least agitation will cause death.” 

“ Can he live until to-morrow ?” inquired Du Cat. 

“ He may live until the day after,” replied the doc- 
tor, “ but he will require the most careful attention. 
Good evening, messieurs !" He had seen Du Cat place 
a twenty-franc piece on the table, and considered his 
brief services an equivalent for the meager fee. 

An hour or so later the marquis sent the following 
telegram to Baron Von Menken : 

“ Cadama is dying. Come at once. 

“Du Cat.” 


RIEN NE VA PLUS !*’ 


331 


The following- morning, at ten o’clock, the baron ar- 
rived at Monte Carlo. The marquis was waiting at the 
station for him and related what had occurred. 

Menken shook his head skeptically. He would not 
believe that Cadama had attempted to commit suicide. 
The signor was not weak enough for that. 

“ Wait here in the restaurant until I send for you, 
baron,” said Du Cat, when they arrived at the Hotel 
Philibert. “ I will prepare Cadama for your visit.” 

The attorney lay with closed eyes, breathing heavily. 
His face was ghastly in its pallor ; his hands, which 
rested on the bed-covers, trembled constantly. 

When the marquis entered the room Cadama opened 
his eyes, and fixing them with a cold glance on Du Cat, 
said, in a low, scarcely audible tone — one could see 
by his drawn features how painful it was for him to 
speak ; 

“ My mortal enemy came to my rescue ! That almost 
equals the legend of the compassionate Samaritan — 
nay, it surpasses it ! Tell me truly, my loyal fellow- 
swindler, what does the doctor say of me ? How long 
have I to live ?” 

“ If you will promise to keep perfectly quiet and not 
excite yourself I will tell you,” replied Du Cat, bend- 
ing over the bed. 

A smile crossed the lips of the wounded man — a 
sneering, scornful smile. 

“ I am not afraid to die, old boy ! I am a philosopher 
who can calmly face the Eternal Reaper. Come — tell 
me — what did the doctor say ?” 

“ He says you may live until to-morrow — if you do 
not excite yourself.” 

Cadama closed his eyes and breathed heavily for sev- 
eral moments. Then he opened his eyes again and 
motioned for the marquis to come nearer. 


332 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“You are acquainted with Baron Von Menken ?” he 
said in a low whisper. 

The marquis nodded assent. 

“ I want to see him — will you send for him — at once ?” 

“ Herr Von Menken is here,” replied Du Cat. 
“ Shall I ask him to come to you now ?” 

Cadama nodded, and the marquis hastened to sum- 
mon Von Menken, with whom he returned in a few 
moments. 

Rien ne va plus, baron,” whispered the dying man, 
when Menken bent over him. “ The game is up, and I 
am the loser ! I received my death from Herbert von 
Hackert’s hand, but it was an accident. Don’t arrest 
him ; let him go free. Perhaps in the roulette of life 
the ball will some day fall more favorably for him than 
it has for me. I sent for you, baron, because I want to 
say something to you : I alone am to blame for every- 
thing. Frau Von Hilgersdorf is not so guilty as you 
imagine. I lied to her in order to gain her assistance. 
It was her husband who betrayed the secret of Lucia’s 
birth to me — he told me, and wanted me to assist him 
to carry out his plans of revenge against Colonel Von 
Hackert. But Hilgersdorf did not live to carry out his 
plans, and after his death I concluded to try for the 
colonel’s money myself. My plans were carefully laid, 
but you were too clever for me. Baron, you check- 
mated me.” 

He paused a moment to breathe heavily ; the flush 
which had colored his cheeks faded and left him 
ghastly pale. 

“ I stand at the portal of eternity,” he resumed in a 
faint whisper. “ I cannot repair the wrong I have done. 
I can — only — ask — pardon !” A sudden convulsion 
shook his frame, then he lay perfectly still for a few 
seconds. Once more his lips parted. The baron bent 


RIEN NE VA PLUS !” 


333 


his ear close to them, and heard the faint murmur : 
“ Rien ne va plus /” 

The game was up ! 

******* 

Before leaving Monte Carlo Baron Von Menken 
made all the arrangements necessary to send Cadama’s 
body to Rome for burial. When he returned to San 
Remo, late in the afternoon, Elimar Waldau met him 
at the entrance of the hotel with a beaming counte- 
nance. 

“ Lucia has safely passed the crisis, God be praised !” 
he exclaimed, giving Menken’s outstretched hand a 
warm pressure. “ The doctor assures us that all danger 
is past, and that her early recovery depends entirely 
upon careful nursing. The counselor has sent to the 
Casa di Salute for a sister of mercy, who will relieve 
Frau Von Sporken, Frau Dreyfuss and Annie Boring 
at night. But you look serious, Attokar, Has Cadama 
prepared more disagreeable hours for you ?” 

“ Retribution has overtaken the poor wretch,” replied 
the baron. “ He is dead — shot by young Hackert, 
Avith whom he had a quarrel.” 

“Cadama dead !” repeated Elimar. “ vShot by the 
student ? A singular turn of fate, truly ! Give me the 
particulars.” 

Baron Von Menken related what he knew of the 
affair. 

“ I have long suspected,” he added, in conclusion, 
“ that the Italian attorney and young Hackert were 
leagued together in the plot against Lucia. Cadama’s 
dying request was that Hackert should not be arrested, 
as the shot .was entirely accidental. The student has 
disappeared, and I wish most heartily he would never 
be heard of again ! I learned nothing new from 
Cadama. His last words only confirmed what I already 


INVtSlBT.E HANnS. 


334 


knew. Hilgersdorf, as I surmised, was the originator 
of the plot to betray the secret of Lucia’s birth, in order 
to revenge himself on her father. But neither he nor 
any of his fellows in villainy succeeded in injuring the 
only creature who made my old friend’s life happy. 
Let us thank Heaven for it !” 

“And after Heaven you, Attokar !” added Waldau, 
with deep emotion. “You have guarded Lucia with a 
father’s care, and your noble unselfishness deserves 
warmer gratitude than Lucia has shown you. But you 
are accustomed to be misunderstood and misjudged. 
Was it not a long time before I learned to appreciate 
your self-sacrificing friendship ? Just so sure as my 
eyes were at last opened to see in you the best of men, 
just so certain is it that Lucia also will give you her 
unbounded confidence and warmest gratitude when she 
learns all that you have done for her.” 

“ I desire no thanks for doing my duty,” responded 
Menken, almost curtly. “ But, should Lucia give me 
what she has always refused me — her respect, she will 
make me as happy as — it is possible for me to be in 
this life.” 

He turned abruptly away to conceal the expression 
of pain which at that moment distorted his stern 
face. 




CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ YES.” 

Unusual silence had reigned in the villa occupied by 
Counselor Dreyfuss and his family since the eventful 
evening when Lucia was brought back unconscious 
from the pavilion. Annie Boring’s merry laughter 
had ceased, the counselor’s good-natured bluster was 
not heard, even Frau Therese’s indefatigable tongue 
seemed to have become mute. The servants stole 
about the house on tiptoe, and whispered only the 
necessary inquiries concerning household matters, the 
Italian cook in the kitchen had lost all interest in his 
art because Frau Dreyfuss paid no further heed to his 
gastronomic feats. 

In her room lay Lucia, pale and still. The traces of 
the violent brain-fever which had followed the terrible 
excitement she had undergone in the interview with 
Signor Cadama were plainly visible in her wasted 
features. She was still very weak and still became 
fearfully agitated whenever her thoughts wandered 
back to that fateful evening when she had listened to 
the Italian’s revealations. She tried in vain to banish 
these thoughts but they persisted in haunting her like 
unpleasant dreams. Through the long sleepless nights 

[335] 


336 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


all sorts of shapes and visions would pass before her 
eyes. vShe would see among them the shadowy fea- 
tures of the man she had loved with the reverent affec- 
tion of a daughter ; the adored image would lift its 
waxen hands to place them in benediction on his head. 
Many a time in her wild delirium she had tried to seize 
the hands, and always found her own clasped in the 
cool, soft palms of the watchful sister from the Casa di 
Salute. Then another phantom would pass before her 
vision. A lovely face with sparkling eyes would bend 
close above her — a face so like her own that it might 
have been a reflection. “ Mother ! Mother,” she would 
then whisper in a yearning tone. 

Eight days had passed since the tragedy underneath 
the carob-trees. Frau Von Sporken sat beside Lucia, 
who had just awakened from a fitful slumber. 

“ Aunt,” suddenly exclaimed the young girl, seizing 
the old lady’s hand in her own, “ I have a great favor 
to ask of you, and I know you will grant it when I tell 
you that my perfect recovery depends on it. Dear 
aunt, I feel that I should gain strength were I able to 
calm my mind — to banish from my brain all the excit- 
ing thoughts that torment me day and night — and that 
I shall be able to do only when I know the truth — I 
mean the truth about my birth. What that dreadful 
man told me is partly true — I feel it, but he arranged 
his story to suit his plans. I know, dear aunt, you will 
not deceive me. Therefore, tell me — tell me every- 
thing — that my heart, my mind, may once more be at 
peace !” 

Frau Von Sporken had been anxiously waiting for 
such a request from her young charge. Baron Von 
Menken had related to Counselor Dreyfuss what had 
occurred in the pavilion, and had revealed the secret of 
Lucia’s birth, knowing that it could no longer remain 


337 


hidden from the world. Consequently, Frau Von 
Sporken was able to tell the youngf girl all she desired 
to know. 

As tenderly as carefully and diplomatically as possi- 
ble the worthy old lady related the romantic history of 
the unfortunate Carmella Boccani, taking care always 
to keep Colonel Von Hackert and his affection for his 
adopted daughter the central point of her recital. 

“ It was the greatest, the noblest proof of his love for 
you, my dear,” she said in conclusion, “ that the colonel 
concealed from you your true origin. He wanted you 
to feel that you were really his child ; that you really 
had a right to the 'proud name of Hackert-Selchern, 
and that the rancor of the envious might never fall 
upon you. For this reason he adopted you secretly, 
and when he died, left the papers verifying your adop- 
tion in the keeping of his best, his truest friend, whom 
he knew he could trust to guard them and you. But 
the secret is known now. It can no longer remain hid- 
den that you are only an adopted daughter, but you 
need not be ashamed of your mother. She was an 
honest upright woman, who, during her life of trial and 
privation, made but one mistake, and that was in mar- 
rying the man she loved. That was no sin — only a 
misfortune, and you may thank God for giving you a 
second father in the noble rhan who did for you what 
your own failed to do.” 

Frau Von Sporken ceased, and looked attentively at 
the young girl, who was lying quietly on the pillow, an 
interested expression on her pale face. She had not 
once interrupted the recital ; now she drew a long 
breath, grasped the old lady’s hand, and pressing it 
warmly, said : 

“ Thank you, dear aunt. Of course, it grieves me 
that I never knew my mother — that I never was able 


338 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


to lighten her burdens. Perhaps it was best for her 
children, after all, that I was adopted by Colonel Von 
Hackert. Had he not done so, I should not be able 
now to help my brother, and we, very likely, would 
both be poor and unhappy. Now, however, I can help 
Francisco. We will take the poor lad to our hearts, 
will we not, dear aunt ? He is a good boy, and really 
quite clever. He has managed to learn many useful 
things, and we will soon teach him what he yet lacks. 
When he has become a brave and honorable man I 
shall be doubly grateful to the noble man who was a 
father to me, and who made it possible for me to help 
my brother.” 

Frau Von Sporken nodded a smiling approval. 

“ I should be delighted to have Francisco live with 
us, my dear Lucia,” she said ; “but I don’t believe he 
will consent to leave Baron Von Menken, who delivered 
him from the power of that wicked Italian, and of 
whom he is very fond. We need not trouble ourselves 
about your brother, my dear ; for, even if he refuses 
to come to us, he will have a good home with the 
baron.” 

Lucia passed her hand over her brow. 

“What a horrible thing is prejudice !” she exclaimed. 
“ Of all the people I know, Baron Von Menken always 
impressed me as being the most disagreeable ! I never 
could understand papa’s affection and friendship for 
him, and my antipathy became veritable hatred when 
I learned that the baron was in possession of a secret 
concerning the Hackert family. I actually insulted 
him when he refused to reveal the secret to me. To- 
day I know why he refused ! To-day I understand 
his words which mystified me then ! He watched over 
me faithfully ; he guarded me from my enemies, and 
I insulted him with my suspicions ! Oh, I have much 


339 


“yes.** 

to regret — much to make good ! How I wish I were 
strong- enough now — how gladly would I tell him how 
sorry I am for my mistrust !” 

“ You will very soon be able to do so, my dear. Now, 
however, you must rest. We have had enough excite- 
ment for to-day.” 

Lucia’s convalescence began that day. She improved 
visibly, and it was not long until the doctor gave per- 
mission for her to be removed to the veranda. Then, 
while she lay carefully wrapped in shawls in her easy- 
chair, from which she could look over the sea and into 
the park surrounding the villa, the rest of the family 
would group themselves about her. The ladies, as 
usual, with sewing and knitting ; and the counselor 
with his newspaper, at which he rarely glanced. 

It was during this season of convalescence that a 
little conversation took place between Herr Dreyfuss 
and Baron Von Menken concerning Lucia. The baron 
had seen in Rahlou’s newspaper, a few days after 
Cadama’s death, another article relating to the 
“ burglary ” at Colonel Von Hackert’s residence. 
Menken at once consulted Herr Dreyfuss as to the 
best way to stop these attacks on Lucia. The coun- 
selor was furious ; his broad face glowed with anger, 
and his plump fist more than once emphasized the 
force of his words on the top of the table beside which 
he was sitting. 

“ Incredible !” he ejaculated. “ Incredible ! One can 
hardly believe that there are creatures base enough to 
fling stones at a helpless girl merely to satisfy a petty 
spite ! But wait, you miserable scoundrels ! We have 
just begun to clear out the rubbish, and your turn will 
soon come ! Of course, my dear Menken, the first 
thing to do is to sue that villain Rahlou for slander.” 

“ I am afraid so,” assented the baron reluctantly. 


340 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“After the scene with Waldaii at the Cafe Bauer the 
fellow is not worthy being called to account as between 
gentlemen. But we can’t sue Ralhou personally. We 
must bring suit against the publisher of the newspaper. 
I have business in Berlin, in a day or two, and shall 
attend to it. I am sorry, for Lucia’s sake, that Rahlou’s 
valgarity brings the affair into the courts after all ; 
but an example must be made, else there will be no 
end to the scurrilous gossip.” 

Three days after this conversation, Baron Von Men- 
ken and Francisco came to bid Lucia good-by. The 
baron looked pale and careworn ; traces of melancholy 
were also to be seen in the countenance of the young 
campagnole, who was clad in a becoming travelling 
costume. While Francisco, at Lucia’s request, had 
visited the villa frequently during her convalescence, 
Menken saw her to-day for the first time since the 
memorable evening in the pavilion, A sudden gleam 
lighted his eyes when the young girl came toward him 
and held out her hand. 

“ You are going away, Herr Von Menken,” she said, 
with sincere regret in her tones and face. “ Just now, 
too, when I am beginning to live again ! That is not 
treating me kindly ! But 1 hope it is to be only a brief 
absence, and that we shall see you back again very 
soon.” 

“ I am going to Berlin to attend to some important 
business, by dear girl,” he responded quietly. “ After- 
ward, I intend to take up my pilgrim’s staff, and wan- 
der — perhaps to Japan, perhaps to India, or North 
America. My best years are passing swiftly away, and 
I want to see those regions of the globe I have not yet 
seen, before I get too old to travel.” 

Lucia’s face saddened. 

“ Oh, Herr Von Menken ! Then this is really the 


last time I shall see you for many months, perhaps 
years ? And I have looked forward — now that every- 
thing is clear between us — to a pleasant and confidential 
friendship with you ! I want so much to atone for the 
wrong I have done you. Believe me, dear Herr Von 
Menken, I regret most sincerely to have so misunder- 
stood you, and I beg you from my heart to forgive me 
for offending you — ” 

“ Pray, Lucia,” hastily interposed the baron, “ take 
back your appeal for forgiveness. You never gave me 
offense, because I never for one instant forgot that 
your heart was incapable of unkind thoughts. You 
were only frank, and candidly showed your contempt 
because you imagined me contemptible. I do not deny 
that I was pained, but offended ? Never ! But the 
past is past ! And one of the best, perhaps the best, 
gift to man is the ability to forget. Let us think no 
more of what saddens us, but let us speak of the 
future.” 

Lucia ‘laid her hand in Menken’s ; he touched his 
lips to it, then gently released it. 

“ Your magnanimity shames me, baron. You are too 
generous. I deserve to be punished. Rest assured 
that so long as I live, I will remember how faithfully 
the ‘ unseen hands ’ guarded me against evil. It is 
written, that the warmest friendships are those which 
began in enmity, and I believe it. Heretofore I be- 
lieved you my enemy, henceforward no power on earth 
can break our friendship !” 

The baron suddenly bent his head, his feature were 
convulsed with a singular emotion.* 

“ And Cicco ?” continued Lucia, as Herr Von Menken 
remained silent. “ Are you, too, going to desert me ?” 

“ Don’t be offended, dear Lucia,” responded the lad, 
resting a beseeching glance on her face. “ But I must 


343 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


go with Herr Von Menken. My life belongs to him. 
Besides, were I to stay with you, the world would 
always remember that our mother was a poor forsaken 
woman, and that your brother was once a servant — ” 

“ Cicco, Cicco,” interposed Lucia, with tearful eyes. 
“ Do you imagine that I should be ashamed of our 
mother or of you ? No, indeed ! Let the world say 
what it pleases, I don’t care for its opinion. Baron 
Von Menken says truly that forgetfulness is man’s 
best gift. Why should we remember the past ? I 
thank God that I have wealth — not for wealth’s sake, 
for I despise all mercenary feelings ; but I know and 
realize the power of money. It compels respect, and 
if you will stay with me, Cicco, you shall share my for- 
tune.” 

Francisco flung himself at his sister’s feet, and 
covered her hands with kisses. 

“I understand you fully, my sweet sister !” he cried, 
his voice trembling with emotion. “ I know you would 
do everything for me, but I cannot stay with you ; be- 
lieve me, it is best that I should go away. Besides, I 
owe so much to my benefactor yonder, he will take 
care of me. Pray — pray let me go with him !” 

“ Pardon me, dear Lucia,” here interposed the baron, 
“ if I presume to interfere in what should be your affair 
alone. I have learned to love Francisco, and beg that 
you will let him come with me. He will remind me 
daily of you, and that will make him dearer still. As 
my noble friend, your adopted father, took you to his 
heart, so will I look upon Francisco as my child ; and 
you may depend on it, miss,” he added with a smile, 
“ that I shall be a good father, and as my son and heir, 
he must gratefully refuse the pecuniary assistance you 
have generously offered to him.” 

Lucia was deeply touched by the baron’s generosity ; 


YES. 


343 


« 


she looked with shining eyes up into his face, but the 
words of gratitude died on her lips. She dropped her 
head beneath the glance of the steel-gray eyes which 
seemed to burn into her very soul. Before she could 
compose herself, Herr Von Menken resumed : 

“ Don’t altogether forget me, your new-old friend, 
Frdiilein" he said, smiling, and extending his hand in 
farewell. She laid her own in it ; his fingers clasped 
it closely, and held it while he continued speaking : 
“You stand at the portal of a long and happy life, and 
one is apt to grow egoistic when one is always happy, 
and forget absent friends. And now, one word more. 
Lux — allow me to call you so in farewell, as I used to 
call you when you were a little girl — I go from you 
with a feeling of gratitude because you understand me 
at last, because all mistrust of me has vanished from 
your heart, and because you look on me as a true friend. 
Shall it always be so. Lux ?’’ 

“ Always, Herr Von Menken,” briefly replied Lucia, 
who was strangely affected by the wistful tenderness 
of his tone. 

“ Then farewell. Lux ! God bless and keep you 
always !” 

He took her head between his palms, lifted her face 
and looked earnestly into her tearful eyes. Then he 
bent and lightly kissed her brow, wrung her hand once 
more and hastily quitted the room. 

******* 

The counselor and Elimar Waldau accompanied the 
two travelers to the railway station. On the way they 
came up with Frau Von Hilgersdorf’s old servant, who 
was walking alongside a cart filled with chests and boxes. 

“ Well, Kamisch,” saluted the counselor, whose mu- 
nificent tips were gratefully remembered by the old 
man, “ and where may you be travelling ?” 


344 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“To Vienna, counselor,” replied Kamisch, respect- 
fully doffing his cap, “ Frau Von Hilgersdorf has sold 
her villa and gone to Vienna. She left me here to send 
this luggage after her. We are going to Hungary 
to buy back the estate which belonged to the father of 
Frau Von Hilgersdorf. She wishes to become a landed 
proprietor in the land of her birth.” 

When the old man and the luggage cart were left 
behind them, Menken said with a smile ; 

“ Evidently the fair Ilona wishes to avoid us. 'Tis a 
wise move to bury herself and her fascinations in the 
Pussta. It will spare many a masculine heart.” 

The farewells at the station were brief, as the train 
was already there when they arrived. Elimar wrung 
his friend’s hand and prepared to wave a last farewell 
with his handkerchief from the platform. But the 
baron’s eyes were not turned toward him. They were 
fixed with a tense gaze on the bow- window of a villa 
that rose above the olive trees a little distance from the 
station. It was the window of the room where he had 
bidden farewell to Lucia. 

The next moment the train had swept beyond a 
jutting hill and was lost to sight. 

“ What have you in view for this evening ?” asked 
the counselor, laying his hand on Elimar’s shoulder. 

“ Nothing !” 

“ Then come home with me and help me entertain 
the women. We will sit in the garden and enjoy 
a little chat. The afternoon is charming. I dare say 
they are sleighing by this time in Berlin.” 

Waldau assented ; and as they walked up the broad 
road which led to the villa, they could see the ladies 
on the veranda around a tea-table. 

The conversation which followed the arrival of the 
gentlemen was rather animated ; Lucia alone seemed 


345 


“ YES.” 

disinclined to join in it. At last Frau Von Sporken, 
who had been closely observing the young charge for 
some time, said : 

“ Are you not so well to-day, my dear child ?” 

“ I am quite well, Tantchen” smilingly replied the 
girl, “ only I feel a trifle chilly. I am almost ashamed 
to say so with all this bright sunshine around me. I 
will go for a walk, the exercise will warm me.” 

Waldau was on his feet in an instant. 

“ May I accompany you, miss ?” he said with an 
eagerness that was visible to all. “ I, too, should like 
a promenade.” 

A slight flush colored Lucia’s face as she bowed an 
assent. She flung a shawl about her shoulders, and 
the two descended the steps, the counselor looking 
after them with a quizzical light in his merry eyes. 

“ Let us go down to the beach,” suggested Lucia as 
they walked through the garden. “ It is so long since 
I felt the breath of the sea, with its foam-greeting, that 
I actually long to tread the sands again.” 

“ Unfortunately there is a rather disagreeable bit of 
prose mixed with the poetry of the sea,” responded 
Elimar. “ The dampness is apt to give one an influ- 
enza ; and you, miss, are not yet well enough to run 
such risks.” 

“ I am really quite well again,” quickly interposed 
Lucia. “And I don’t feel the least bit cold. I told 
that little fib in order to get away from the veranda. I 
was so tired of their well-meaning, but idle chatter !” 

“You are still weak and nervous in spite of your 
assertions to the contrary,” persisted Elimar. “ You 
must be careful — ” 

Lucia shook her head impatiently, and again inter- 
rupted him : 

“ I tell you I am perfectly well, Herr Waldau. In- 


346 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


deed, I am much better than I was before my illness, 
for the ban of uncertainty has been removed from me. 
I confess, however, that the parting from my brother 
and from — why should I conceal it ? — from Herr Von 
Menken has left me somewhat nervous and agitated.” 

A sudden pang of jealousy seized Elimar’s heart. 
The next instant he banished the thought as unworthy. 

“ I understand why you should feel so toward Men- 
ken, miss,” he said, with a sympathetic smile. “ The 
baron used to be anything but agreeable to you, and 
the sudden alteration in your feelings toward him nat- 
urally affects you. I had a similar experience to yours.” 

“ Indeed ?” exclaimed Lucia, almost rejoiced that she 
was not the only one who had blindly looked on genu- 
ine gold as counterfeit. “ I thought you and the baron 
were always the best of friends. Are you not called in 
Berlin ‘ The Inseparables ?’ ” 

“Yes; Herr Pringsberg originated that witticism. 
Ever since I became acquainted with the baron — 
through his purchase of my ‘ Vestal Virgin ’ — he has 
treated me as a brother ; while I, at first, looked upon' 
all his amiability and graciousness toward me as insin- 
cere, and even sought to find selfish motives in his 
friendship for me. I learned how deeply I erred, how- 
ever, and frankly confessed my mistake to Menken.” 

“ How did you discover your mistake ?” 

“When I learned how nobly and unselfishly he 
worked to defeat your enemies, miss.” 

“ But, surely, that was no proof of the baron’s true 
friendship for you, Herr Waldau ?” smilingly inter- 
posed the young girl. 

“ Oh, yes it was — the surest proof, for Menken 
knew — ” Elimar stopped abruptly and a deep flush red- 
dened his face — “knew how much I respected you, 
miss,” he concluded, with evident embarrassment. 


YES. 


347 




It was Lucia’s turn now to color. 

“You are a quibbler, Herr Waldau,” she returned, a 
becoming blush mantling her cheeks. Then, as if de- 
siring to change the subject, she added, with anima- 
tion : “ Ah, see what a charming spot ! Let us stop 

here a few minutes.” 

They had reached the shore, where huge rock-masses 
projected their fantastic forms into the seething waves. 
On one of the largest boulders, which was more ele- 
vated than the rest, might yet be seen the last remnant 
of an ancient watch-tower, which had been built here 
centuries ago, as a protection against the predatory 
Saracens. Near it the waves had carved a rock into 
the semblance of an easy-chair. Lucia ensconced her- 
self therein, while the waves anon flung their foamy 
greeting at her feet. 

“ You intend very soon to follow Herr Von Menken, 
I am told ?” said Lucia after a pause, during which she 
had toyed with the loose pebbles lying around her 
rock-throne. 

“ Yes, I am sorry to say !” replied Elimar. “ I am 
compelled, by a disagreeable business, to return to 
Berlin. I have been accused — in an anonymous letter 
to the Hanging Committee of the Exhibition — of copy- 
ing my last picture from a work that was painted 
twenty years ago by an obscure Hungarian artist, and 
must refute the accusation.” 

“ How very disagreeable !” ejaculated Lucia, indig- 
nation coloring her cheeks. “ But you will have no 
difficulty in refuting the shameless slander ?” 

“ I hope I may not have, miss ; but the contrary may 
happen, one can never tell ! A friend wrote me that 
the Hungarian artist’s picture was sent for inspection 
to the committee, and that it is an exact duplicate of 
my own. It is not possible that two artists can treat 


348 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


the same subject in a similar manner, without some 
knowledge of each other ; therefore, I imagine there 
must be a cleverly devised fraud somewhere !” 

“ Have you any idea who has played you such an 
abominable trick ?” 

“ My friend thinks Blenkner has something to do 
with it.” 

“ Herr Blenkner ? ‘ Still-life ' Eugene ? He is the 

last person I should suspect ; he is not clever enough.” 

Elimar shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Blenkner is the leader of that clique whose chief 
object is to defame their more successful colleagues ; 
and they are generally leagued with a certain class of 
newspaper men who work with them to accomplish 
their aim. Shortly after the prize was awarded to my 
last picture in the exhibition, Rahlou, who is a personal 
enemy of mine, wrote a savage criticism on it and 
abused the judges for their favorable decision. Now a 
second, and more abusive article, appears in which I 
am denounced as a plagiarist. The majority of news- 
paper readers swear by their favorite journal, conse- 
quently there will always remain some who will look 
with suspicion on me — even if I succeed in refuting the 
atrocious accusation.” 

“ Why should you care for the censure of a few when 
all the rest of the world acknowledges your inno- 
cence ?” exclaimed Lucia, with sparkling eyes. 

“ I shall not even care for the ‘ censure of a few,’ if I 
succeed in making my patrons believe in me, and that, 
I fear, will be a rather difficult task with the Hungarian 
picture to controvert my assertions of innocence. I 
may even be called upon to perform the disagreeable 
task of returning the money I received for my picture. 
It is hardly likely that the purchaser will want to retain 
possession of a plagiarism !” 


YES. 


349 


Lucia looked up into Elimar’s excited face and 
smiled. 

“ I don’t think you will be called upon to take back 
your picture, Herr Waldau,” she responded in a pecu- 
liar tone. 

Waldau started ; there was a significance in the 
young girl’s tone and words he could not understand. 

“ Fraulein Lucia ? What am I — what am I to under- 
stand ?” he stammered confusedly. “ Can it be possible 
that you — ” 

He did not conclude his question — the next instant 
he was on his knees beside her, his hands clasping her 
own in a firm, warm grasp, his burning eyes fixed on 
her blushing face. 

“ Lucia — Lucia ! For the second time I kneel to you. 
I sue for your love, but I am not the same as when I 
wooed you amid the storm on the Selisburg. I have 
not forgotten what you said to me then. I took your 
advice to heart and became a different man. For the 
second time I beg for your love, Lucia. Will you re- 
ject me again ? Do not, I pray you, for I could not en- 
dure it. I cannot live without your love ! Tell me, 
Lucia, is your answer this time to be yes or no ?” 

There was a moment’s hesitation — only a moment, 
then a low, trembling but happy voice answered ; 

“ Yes.” 




CHAPTER XXVIT. 

BARON VON Menken’s last service. 

The same day that Herr Von Menken arrived in 
Berlin, he called at the newspaper office in which Herr 
Rahlou was employed. The office-boy, of whom the 
baron inquired for the journalist, said that the doctor 
was engaged just then on a very important article and 
was not to be seen. 

“ I must see him, nevertheless,” said the baron, 
taking a card from his pocket. “ Take this card to Herr 
Rahlou and say to him that my business with him is 
quite as ‘ important ’ as the article on which he is en- 
gaged.” 

The boy hesitated a moment, then casting a shy, 
side-glance at the baron’s tall, imposing figure, vanished 
quickly behind the door. 

The baron paced the floor impatiently ; the mes- 
senger was absent a long time — fully ten minutes as 
Menken convinced himself by watching the clock — and 
when at last he reappeared, embarrassment was con- 
spicuous on his youthful countenance. 

“ The doctor is — very sorry — ” he stammered, “ but 
it is — quite impossible for him — to see any one just at 
present.” 

[350] 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


351 


Menken’s face darkened, the line between his brows 
deepened, but his tones were as calm as usual when he 
said : 

“ Then conduct me to the publisher’s private office. 
I presume Herr Bergheim is accessible to callers.” 

At that moment the door opened, and the gentleman 
in question entered. He bowed carelessly to the baron, 
and asked in a condescending tone : 

^ “ How can I serve you, sir ?” 

“ First,” returned the baron coldly, “ by informing 
me who wrote the scurrilous article entitled ‘Society 
News,’ which appeared in No. 415 of your journal ?” 

Herr Bergheim assumed an indignant expression and 
manner. 

“ Sir ?” he ejaculated, aggressively surveying his 
visitor, “ what do you mean by presuming to apply 
such a term to an article which appeared in my paper ? 
I might take it into my head to call you to account 
for — ” 

“ Pray do,” interrupted the baron, coolly. “ Nothing 
would suit me better. I came here to challenge you, 
as well as the knave who wrot^ the infamous lie. My 
name is Menken — Baron Von Menken — ” 

“ Be good enough to step into my private office,” in- 
terposed Herr Bergheim, not in the least intimidated 
by the baron’s warlike manner. “ We shall be undis- 
turbed there. Take a chair, baron,” he continued, when 
they were in the publisher’s comfortable sanctum. “ And 
so you want to fight a duel with me ? I think I can sug- 
gest a better plan — one, at least, that will save some 
powder. I will give you the name of the writer, and 
you can send your challenge directly to him.” 

Notwithstanding the baron’s serious mood, he could 
not help but smile at the publisher’s practical sugges- 
tion. 


353 


INViSiBLE HANDS. 


“ Who is the writer ?” he asked, 

Herr Bergheim opened a large acconnt-book and 
turned over the leaves, muttering to himself : 

“No. 415 — Society News — Ah!” he added aloud, 
“ here it is : ‘ Seventy lines — twenty-one marks — paid 
on November 8th to Hasdroubal Rahlou.’ ” 

Herr Bergheim rose, and pressed the electric button 
beside his desk. 

“ Tell Rahlou I want to see him,” he said to the lad 
who answered the summons. Then he turned to the 
baron. “ You can make what arrangements you choose, 
baron. Don’t spare him if he has really told what is 
not true. I shall know how to deal with him afterward. 
I have no need of such writers. Truth — truth is what 
I want, baron. Truth has made my paper famous !” 

Menken nodded. He knew that the exact contrary 
had made the valiant editor’s sheet a success. 

Rahlou started when he saw who was with his em- 
ployer, He scented mischief on the moment, for Herr 
Bergheim was a veritable tyrant in his little kingdom. 

“ Baron Von Menken desires a few words with you,” 
said the publisher curtly. Rahlou bowed respectfully 
and turned toward Herr Von Menken, who had risen 
from his chair. 

“ You are the author of the article entitled, ‘ Society 
News,’ in number 415 of the Evening Journal?" said 
the baron. 

“ I am, sir,” returned Rahlou, assuming a defiant air. 

“Were you aware, when you wrote it, that you were 
stating untruths ?” 

“ I don’t think they are untrue, Herr Von Menken. 
I received my information from authentic sources.” 

“ Will you still believe your sources ‘ authentic,’ 
when I tell you that the defamer of the Hackert family. 
Signor Cadama, was arrested two weeks ago, in San 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


353 


Remo, for forgery and cheating. He escaped from the 
police, but was shot afterward in a quarrel with a 
friend. The signor was your chief source. Herbert 
von Hackert, another informant, was to have been ar- 
rested as an accomplice of Cadama’s, but he managed 
to elude the police and has most likely fled to Amer- 
ica.” 

The insolent smile faded from Rahlou’s face as he 
listened to the baron’s stern words. He grew a shade 
paler, but recovered himself in a moment, and said 
with affected carelessness : 

“ What you say is very interesting, but how am I to 
know that it is true ?” 

Menken’s right hand trembled. He could hardly re- 
frain from chastising the impertinent knave. But he 
told himself that to yield to the impulse would only 
demean his respectability ; he said, therefore, in his 
usual tone : 

“ I can convince you before a court of justice, that 
what I say is true. As I have no further business 
here, I shall proceed at once to bring suit againt — ” 

“ Beg pardon, baron,” here interposed the publisher, 
who had listened in silence to the* foregoing conversa- 
tion. “ Beg pardon, but I fancy we can settle this 
matter without the aid of the law. .1 don’t fear a legal 
procedure, but there is no need to carry the matter to 
such an extent. The fact is simply this : 1 believe jjw/, 
baron, and I do not believe Herr Rahlou, who has got 
me into trouble more than once with his wild tales. 
Can you assure me, on your honor, baron, that the 
statements in the article in question are untrue ?” 

“ I give you my word of honor, Herr Bergheim, that 
they are false from beginning to end.** 

“ Thanks !” 

Herr Bergheim bowed politely to the baron, then 


354 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


turned toward Rahlou, whom he surveyed with a 
severe glance. 

“ What have you to say for yourself now, Herr 
Rahlou ?” 

“ I can only show you the letter I received from 
Herbert von Hackert,” answered the reporter. “ I re- 
ceived my information from him. You must admit, 
Herr Bergheim, that I was justified in accepting as 
truthful the information I received from a person so 
intimately connected with the Hackert family ?” 

“ I don’t admit anything !” thundered the publisher 
in a voice that no one would have believed he possessed. 
“ Since you have been in my employ, you have done 
nothing but get me into one scrape after another ! I 
have no further use for such an assistant. Go to the 
cashier and ask him to give you a month’s wages. You 
are dismissed !” 

“ Herr Bergheim !” ejaculated the now thoroughly 
frightened reporter, in so piteous an accent that even 
Menken felt a tinge of compassion for him. But Herr 
Bergheim was a stranger to compassion. 

“Well, what do you want ?” he demanded roughly. 
“ I am treating you far better than you deserve in giv- 
ing you a month’s pay instead of the usual week’s^ 
warning.” 

“Allow me to say a word, Herr Bergheim,” here in- 
terposed the baron, who was disgusted by the little 
tyrant’s manner. “ If you imagine that Herr Rahlou’s 
dismissal will satisfy me, you are mistaken. I desire a 
denial of the scandalous article, and demand that I be 
allowed to dictate the denial.” 

Herr Bergheim lifted his hands in terror, exclaiming : 

“ For heaven’s sake, baron, not another retraction ! 
We have already corrected a similar statement, and we 
cannot — indeed, we cannot — retract a second time.” 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


355 


Very good; then the courts must settle the mat- 
ter,” decisively replied Herr Von Menken, turning 
toward the door. 

Herr Bergheim sprang excitedly to his feet, and 
placing himself in front of the baron, said, in a voice 
that trembled with mingled anger and desperation : 

“ But, my dear baron, you are at liberty to prosecute 
Rahlou as often as you please ; he alone is to blame, 
and surely he ought to be the only one to suffer the 
consequences.” 

“ Unfortunately, Rahlou is not the owner of the news- 
paper which published his scandalous article,” returned 
the baron. “ A retraction must appear in your journal 
— and if I have to call on the courts to force you to 
publish it.” 

Herr Bergheim tramped ferociously up and down the 
floor, took a large pinch of snuff from a heavily-gilded 
box and at last halted in front of the baron. 

“ I want to be rid of this disagreeable business,” he 
said, in a lofty tone. “ For that reason — and not be- 
cause I am afraid of a law-suit — I assent to your re- 
quest. Sit down there at the desk, Rahlou, and write 
what the baron dictates.” 

Rahlou breathed more freely. He seated himself 
with alacrity at the desk and took up a pen. 

“ Correction,” dictated the baron distinctly and 
slowly : “ We are extremely sorry — ” 

“‘Very sorry ’ will do as well,” interpolated Herr 
Bergheim. 

“ ‘ Extremely sorry,’ ” repeated Menken decisively, 
“ to be compelled to retract the statements made in the 
article entitled* Society News ’ and published in number 
415 of the journal, said statements being untruths — ” 

“ ‘ Mistakes ’ would sound better,” again suggested 
Herr Bergheim. 


356 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“ ‘Untruths’ is the proper word,” responded the 
baron. Then he continued ; “ ‘ Further, we wish to add 
that the whole series of statements relating to the so- 
called burglary at Colonel Von Hackert’s residence, 
and appearing from time to time in these columns, were 
emanations from the fertile imagination of our re- 
porter.’ ” 

“But, my dear Herr Von Menken!” interrupted 
Herr Bergheim, wringing his hands in desperation, 
“ such a retraction will be the journal’s death-sentence ! 
We shall lose our subscribers. All the world will 
ridicule us — the political party we uphold will select 
another organ ! We shall go to the dogs, baron, to 
the dogs !” 

Menken took up his hat, and without noticing the 
publisher’s agitation, said : 

“ I shall expect to see the retraction, as I have dic- 
tacted, in the journal to-morrow. If it does not appear 
you will hear at once from my lawyer. Good morn- 
ing !” . 

As Menken closed the door behind him, he heard 
Herr Bergheim ’s furious tones assail the reporter. 

The baron had not yet breakfasted the next morning 
when Herr Rahlou was announced. He had brought 
the journal with the retraction. 

“ You will see, baron,” he said in a respectful tone, 
“ that your instructions have been carried out to the 
letter. I must tell you, though, that I had a deal of 
trouble to induce Bergheim to let the retraction go to 
the printer as you dictated it, and that he refused to 
retain me in his service after bringing such a disgrace 
on his paper. I am now without the means to earn my 
bread, baron, and will not be likely to secure another 
position very soon. It is a terrible misfortune, baron. 
I have an aged mother dependent — ” 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


357 


Menken waved his hand rather impatiently. He had 
no desire to become acquainted with the reporter’s pri- 
vate affairs. 

“ Let us come to the point at once, Herr Rahlou,” he 
said curtly. “ I can guess the object of your early 
visit. You want me.to assist you. I shall do so will- 
ingly if you will do something for me — ” 

“ Anything, anything in my power, baron,” exclaimed 
the reporter, his face brightening. 

“Very well. Sit down and listen to me. You are 
aware, I dare say, that my friend Waldau has been 
most maliciously slandered by his enemies. You need 
not pretend to be astonished, for you published several 
articles relating to .the slanders in your paper. You 
and Eugene Blenkner are the originators of the plot 
against my friend — ” 

“ Baron,” interrupted Rahlou, affecting an injured 
air. 

“ You may as well admit it at once, Herr Rahlou,” 
admitted the baron, “ for I know what I am talking 
about. You will only injure your prospects by further 
dissimulation. I give you your choice between two 
alternatives : Be perfectly truthful toward me, and 
receive assistance from me, or continue to spread 
abroad your malicious slanders, and swear to them be- 
fore a court of justice !” 

Rahlou played nervously with the folded newspaper 
in his hand. He knew* that Menken was a man of his 
word, and would carry out a threat as well as perform 
what he promised. 

“ I have chosen,” he said, at last. “ I will do what 
you require if you in turn will promise that I shall not 
be held responsible to the law, and if you will assist me 
to return to my old home, where I shall take up my 
former trade.” 


353 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


The baron opened a secret drawer in his writing- 
table, took from it two bank-notes, which he laid on the 
table, 

“ Here are two’five-hundred-franc notes. They are 
yours as soon as you have truthfully informed me who 
originated the villainous plot against Waldau.” 

Rahlou’s face flushed ; for a moment he seemed un- 
able to speak. It was difflcult, after all, to tell the 
truth ! But the crisp rustle ot the bank-notes sounded 
in his ear like the soothing whisper of a siren. He 
sighed unconsciously before he replied : 

“ I will make a clean breast of it, baron, come what 
may. You will pronounce me a rogue, but I shall have 
to bear your contempt. You force the confession from 
me. You know what cause I have to hate your friend 
Waldau, and why I wished to revenge myself on him. 
I wanted to get even with him for that insult in the 
Cafe Bauer. Blenkner, who, like myself, has a grudge 
against Waldau, joined forces with me, and together we 
concocted a scheme that — if worked successfully — would 
effectually ruin the art reputation of our common 

enemy. There is a dealer in antiques in B Street, 

an old Pole, who possesses the wonderful faculty of 
giving an ancient appearance to modern copies of the 
old masters, new tapestries, furniture, and so on. I be- 
came acquainted wilh old Gorczinsky — that is the Pole’s 
name — in the police office. He had been arrested for 
cheating a customer, and begge'd me not to mention the 
affair in the newspaper. I promised not to do so, and 
the old fellow became my grateful slave. Blenkner 
made a clever copy of Waldau’s ‘ Kcrkcrwonne^ we de- 
livered it to Gorczinsky, who returned it to us in a few 
days looking thirty years older, and marked as the work 
of Terencz Rapoly, a Hungarian artist who died in 1867. 
The reputation of the Hungarian artist was of so little 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


359 


importance that but few persons to-day remember him, 
or the style of his work. There is no need to tell you, 
baron, how we managed to hoodwink the art judges at 
the exhibition. That we were successful in making 
them believe Waldau’s picture a plagiarism, you know. 
Are you satisfied with my confession ?” 

“I am,” returned Menken rising, “but I must re- 
quest you to remain my guest for two or three hours 
longer. My servant will serve breakfast for you, and 
my young friend and companion, Francisco Boccani, 
will bear you company during my absence. I give you 
my word that you shall be at liberty to depart — taking 
with you these banknotes — so soon as I return.” 

The baron thrust the notes into his pocket, flung his 
cloak around his shoulders, and left the room. He 
sought Francisco who was busily engaged packing two 
large trunks. 

“ What ? Already preparing for our voyage ?” smil- 
ingly exclaimed the baron. “ I can imagine how eager 
you must be to try yohr pinions ! But, I want you to 
do something for me, my dear boy ; there is a man, or 
rather, a blackguard, Rahlou, of whom I have told you, 
in the salon. I want you to keep him company until I 
return, and see that he does not leave the room. I 
shall tell Janisch to be bn guard to assist you in case 
you need him.” 

Francisco nodded understandingly, and Menken en- 
tered his carriage to drive to the police commissioner’s. 
To Herr Von Holgen the baron communicated what 
he had heard from Rahlou, then he requested the com- 
missioner to accompany him to the art exhibition. 

“ We will take one of the committee and Blenkner’s 
picture with us to Gorczinsky’s shop and settle this 
matter once for all !” he said as he stepped after Von 
Holgen into the carriage. 


360 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


In the judge’s room at the exhibition, they found the 
president and a friend of his, who proved to be an ac- 
quaintance of the baron’s, and also of Waldau’s, Herr 
Wyrenberg, the Viennese artist. The baron’s errand 
was quickly explained, the alleged work of Terencz 
Rapoly’s was brought forward, and the four men, with 
the picture, set out for the shop of the dealer in an- 
tiques. 

Gorczinsky was sitting amid a chaotic mass of lumber, 
musty and ill-smelling. He was deeply absorbed in his 
work, varnishing a tall screen decorated with Watteau 
pastoral scenes, and became visibly agitated when the 
commissioner introduced himself in his official capacity. 
He was so confused indeed, that he acknowledged at 
once his complicity in the Hungarian picture forgery, 
but strenuously denied that he had been told for what 
purpose the picture was painted. 

“ We shall prove the truth of your assertion later,” 
coolly returned Von Holgen. “ For the present I shall 
have to ask you to accompany me.” 

Amid a storm of protestations the dealer in antiques 
closed his shop and accompanied the commissioner to 
the police-bureau, while Herr Von Menken returned 
home to release Francisco from the unpleasant society 
of the reporter ; who, with the baron’s banknotes in 
his pocket, hastened at once to the railway station and 
took the first train for his former home in Silesia. 

The same day Baron Von Menken sent a telegram 
to Counselor Dreyfuss, and received one from Waldau. 
The former read ; 

“Matters satisfactorily arranged.” 

The letter contained the announcement of Elimar’s 
betrothal to Lucia. 

Menken was sitting at his writing-table when Waldau’s 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


361 


message was handed to him. He read it, gazed fixedly 
for several seconds at the words, then folded his arms 
on the table and buried his face in them. 

He sat thus for a long time, until Francisco opened 
the door. He started violently when the boy’s gentle 
tones fell on his ear, and raised his head. He was 
deathly pale. There was a drawn look on his face, as 
if he were suffering intense agony. 

“ Cicco, my dear Cicco !” he murmured, rising and 
drawing the lad to his breast. 

He passed his hand tenderly over the curly head 
resting against his shoulder, then bent and looked 
long and steadily into the lad’s clear, shining 
eyes. 

“ Cicco,” he said in a voice that trembled with emo- 
tion, you will never leave me, will you, Cicco? To- 
gether, you and I will travel all over the world — 
together, bear the joy and sorrow that may come to us. 
I will be your father, and you shall be my dear son. I 
am a poor, lonely old man, and yearn for some one to 
love. You will love me in return, will you not, my 
boy ? And you will stay with me so long as I shall 
live ? Stay with me, so that I may look into the dearest 
eyes on earth until the last — until I close my own in 
death !” 

He released the lad from his embrace, and, drawing 
himself to his full height — almost as if he were ashamed 
of having yielded to his emotion — added in a tone that 
sounded harsh in comparison to that in which he had 
been speaking ; 

“ We must bestir ourselves, my boy. A steamer sails 
on the twelfth for Buenos Ayres. We shall have to 
start to Hamburg to-morrow.” 

“ And not wait to see Herr Waldau again ?” in a sur- 
prised tone asked the boy. 


362 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“And not wait to see Herr Waldau,” repeated the 
baron. 

******* 

Two days later, when Herr Waldau arrived in Berlin, 
he was surprised not to find Herr Von Menken await- 
ing him, as usual, at the railway station. He drove 
to his own apartments, delivered his luggage to old 
Susanne, who was rejoiced to hear of her master's be- 
trothal, then went on to Menken’s residence. 

Elimar’s astonishment increased when he arrived at 
the baron’s house, where he found everything in com- 
motion. The double-entrance-doors stood wide open ; 
porters were carrying furniture down the steps and 
loading it on drays. An active little man, with blue 
spectacles and crooked legs, with a greasy note-book 
in his hand, was skipping from one dray to another, 
making notes in his book and scolding the porters and 
draymen in a shrill voice. Hahneman, the old janitor, 
was standing at the door of his little office, looking 
with a melancholy face at the commotion about him. 
His eyes brightened when he saw Elimar spring from 
his carriage. 

“ Well, what do you say to this, Herr Waldau ?” he 
called out, as the artist came toward him. 

“ What does it mean ? Where is the baron ?” breath- 
lessly inquired Elimar. 

Hahneman fixed his gaze on the weather-vane of a 
house on the opposite side of the street, raised his arm, 
and pointing in a westerly direction, said; 

“ Gone — sailed to the new world across the ocean ! 
I never saw any one in such a hurry to get away. You 
may know, Herr Waldau, how eager he was to shake 
the dust of Berlin from his feet when I tell you that he 
left all his belongings to be disposed of by that little 
auctioneer yonder. The horses have been sold to Herr 


BARON VON Menken’s last service. 


363 


Von Oeclielhausen ; the carriages to Neuss. Janisch 
went with the baron. Only I and Franz and Kathi and 
Talbout, the cook, are left behind.” 

Elimar stared in bewilderment at the speaker. 

“ Gone ?” he repeated, mechanically, as if stupefied by 
the unexpected intelligence. “ Gone ?” Then, sud- 
denly realizing what had happened, he added, hastily : 
“ Did he leave no message — no letter for me ?” 

Hahneman beat his hand against his forehead. 

“ Ah, yes !” he exclaimed. “ I had almost forgotten ! 
The baron gave me a letter for you. Come in, Herr 
Waldau. I shall have to hunt for it. I put it some- 
where, and I declare I forget just what I did with it !” 

Elimar entered the neat little apartment and seated 
himself to await, as patiently as he could, the result of 
the old janitor’s search. 

The letter, which was found after considerable 
trouble, was not a long one, but Elimar’s eyes filled 
with tears as he read it : 

“ My Dear Waldau — Mv True Friend : You will be of- 
fended at my quitting Europe without a last farewell — without a 
verbal congratulation on your betrothal. I cannot give you an 
excuse for leaving you so unceremoniously. My apology must 
be my irresistible desire to set out at once on my voyage to that 
portion of the world yet unknown to me. You will shake your 
head and not understand my strange whim, but I shall not see 
you. When you read these lines I shall be on the waves of the 
ocean. You are approaching a happy future, Elimar, and you 
deserve your happiness. You have a noble nature, a good, true 
heart, and I am convinced that Lucia will be happy with you. If 
I have feared until now that you might yield to the old listless- 
ness, now I am satisfied that you will not. Lucia will be your 
good genius. Take good care of her, Elimar, and God bless you 
both ! 

“ And now, in relation to business matters. I don’t think you 
will have any more trouble with the art judges. The affair about 
your picture is satisfactorily settled. Rahlou and Blenkner were 
the originators of the plot against you. The former has left 
Berlin forever ; the latter will be arrested for forgery. You will 
learn the particulars from the exhibition committee. Yon need 


364 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


not thank me for attending to this matter for you. It was the 
last kindness I could do for you. 

“ Francisco sends his best love and heartiest greetings to you and 
to Lucia, as well as to our friends at San Remo. Letters will 
reach me if addressed to the consulate at Buenos Ayres. 

“ And now, farewell, Elimar. I embrace you in sincere 
friendship. Yours, 

“ Attokar.” 




CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THREE GRATULATIONS. 

The vSquare of St. Marks in Venice was so crowded 
with people that there was hardly room for the small 
tables in front of the Cafe Florian. The May evening 
was charming, and the music by the bands on the gar- 
landed estrades so enchanting that a goodly portion of 
the native population mingled with the crowd of tour- 
ists and foreigners on the Piazza. Those who were not 
seated at one of the tables in front of the cafe enjoying 
a gelatof were promenading through the square, en- 
tranced by the changing and animated scenes about 
them. 

An observing eye very soon learns to distinguish 
the different nationalities of the visitors to the square. 
The stiff, well-groomed Englishman, who is oblivious to 
everybody’s comfort but his own, and the American, 
whose practical ideas and independence are manifested 
in every word and movement, are unmistakable. Ar- 
menians, Albanians, Istrians and Greeks are interesting 
appearances. The native type is almost submerged in 
the motley throng. Here and there, however, are to be 
seen the flower-girls, great pearls around their necks, 
false brilliants sparkling on their slender hands ; youth- 

[365] 


366 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


ful Slavs, with their boxes of almond comfits slung 
from their neeks ; venders of mussels and oysters ; sellers 
of mosaics and spun-glass ornaments — and all the rest 
who are gathered in the square to ply their various 
trades. 

At one of the little tables in front of the Cafe Florian 
sat a young couple, evidently one at heart and in 
thought, if not in nationality. While the young man’s 
exterior plainly bespoke his German birth, his com- 
panion’s dusky beauty, her luxuriant black hair, spark- 
ling black eyes and brunette complexion, as plainly 
pronounced her a daughter of the South. 

At a little distance apart from the table stood a gen- 
tleman, in whom we could at a glance recognize the 
Frenchman. The clear-cut profile, the beard h la 
Napoleon, were wholly French, and distinctively French 
the manner in which the creme de rouge was applied to 
the sunken cheeks to give them a youthful color. 

The old Frenchman had halted suddenly on seeing 
the young couple at the table. He now approached, 
and, laying his hand on the German’s shoulder, ex- 
claimed : 

‘‘Monsieur Waldau, vraimetit ! I thought I could 
not be mistaken. I knew I had seen this interesting 
head of yours somewhere !” He paused, and rested an 
inquiring glance on Lucia. 

“My wife. Marquis Du Cat,’’ rather curtly re- 
sponded Waldau, evidently indisposed to enter into 
further conversation. 

“If I mistake not,’’ continued the marquis, gallantly 
acknowledging the introduction, “you are on your 
wedding tour ? It was a charming idea to come to 
Venice — the crown of beauty! I dare say you have 
heard. Monsieur Waldau, that I am now a Venetian ? I 
have taken up my abode in this city. I have for- 


THREE GRATULATIONS 


367 


sworn the green-table, and am about to publish a 
hrochtire on the corrupting influence of the Casino at 
Monte Carlo. I love Venice. It suits me, and I shall 
live here until my savings are all spent. When they 
are all gone the Marquis Du Cat will be ready to make 
his conge and apris moi le deluge ! May I join you ? I 
see there is a vacant seat.” 

“ I .should be delighted to chat longer with you, my 
dear marquis,” returned Elimar, rising, “ but we are 
invited to dine with a friend, and are on our way to his 
house. I hope you will excuse us.” 

Lucia understood her husband’s significant glance, as 
well as the suddenly invented invitation to dinner, and 
rose also. A few more words were exchanged, then the 
young pair wandered arm in arm across the piazzo. 

“ 1 am afraid we shall have to leave this charming 
spot of earth,” observed Elimar, tenderly pressing the 
hand which rested on his arm. “We might encounter 
that living pack of cards oftener than would be agree- 
able to you. We must avoid everything that awakens 
old memories and live only for the present and the 
future.” 

“ I am so grateful for your care of me, dearest,” re- 
turned Lucia in a low tone. “ I have forgotten my 
past sorrows in your love — not even the sight of that 
old professor of gaming recalled unpleasant memories. 
I look back on those past days as does the restored in- 
valid on the days of fever and delirium. Besides, who 
could be sorrowful amid so much beauty ?” 

They had crossed St. Mark’s Square, and now stood 
on the piazetta opposite the Palazzo Ducale. The two 
granite columns facing the lagoon, which upheld the 
winged lion.s, threw gigantic shadows across the moon- 
lit square, and the wavelets rippling against the marble 
staircase of the Riva, sang a song of the long ago. 


368 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


A boat rocked on the shimmering water close to the 
steps ; the gondolier indolently reclining on the cush- 
ioned seat, sang in a clear tenor voice : 

“ Dor mi pure, dormi felice, 

DeW amor mia non scordar', 

Tu somigli 'ad una stella, 

Che dal cielo dicesse per me ! 

Tu se' un angelo, see la gioja 
Del malino la f re sea rosa, 

Sei simpatica, set vezzosa, 

Sei regina d'amor, 

Sei simpatica, sei vezzosa, 

Dormi pure /" 

“Set regina d' amour — Queen of my love !” repeated 
Elimar, laying his arm around the slim waist of his 
young wife. 

“ Ecco, signor !" called the gondolier from his boat. 
“ Does excellenza wish a gondola ? The canal grande 
is much finer by moonlight than in the daytime, and 
if excellenza desires, I should sing my best in keeping 
time with the oars !" 

The young pair stepped into the gondola and soon 
were gliding over the silvery water. They did not 
speak but sat side by side in silence and listened, too 
happy for speech, to the musical voice of their boat- 
man. Like huge black giants the palaces swept past 
them on either side, the moon illumined the win- 
dows and peopled the weather-beaten walls with 
shadowy forms. Now and again they would pass by an- 
other gondola — a silent shadow, black and melancholy. 
«:*****«• 

“ Two letters for the signor and a large package,” 
announced the porter of the Hotel d’ltali when Wal- 
dau and his wife returned from their sail in the moon- 
light. 


THREE GRATULATIONS. 


369 


Elimar shook his head at sight of the large box 
which was almost covered with foreign stamps. Then 
he took up the letters and examined the postmarks. 

“ San Remo,” he said. “ That is from Annie Doring. 
This one — I can’t make out the stamp ; I think it is 
American — is from Menken, and I dare say that box is 
from him, too.” 

The box was opened, with the assistance of a porter, 
and from the litter of straw, tissue-paper and other 
packing materials, appeared a superb table-service of 
silver. 

“ How very beautiful !” exclaimed Elimar, who was 
on his knees beside the box and surrounded by litter. 
“ And that is not all, either — here is something else 
underneath this paper.” 

He lifted out a long ebony-box, with silver clasps ; a 
tiny card dangled from the key, and bore the words ; 

“ For the bride.” 

Elimar bowed gallantly and handed it to his wife ; 

“ For you, my love ; open it yourself. I might stum- 
ble on a secret to which I have no right.” 

Lucia opened the box, and the glittering object which 
met her eyes made her start. It was a costly gift, in- 
deed — an agraffe of diamonds, in the center of which 
shimmered a single pearl, held by an eagle’s talon. 

Deeply moved, Lucia gazed on the brilliant orna- 
ment, seeing only the shimmering pearl, in which she 
recognized the fatal ornament that had made her mis- 
trust her father’s dearest friend. Almost reverently 
she lifted the agraffe from its satin cushion, and held it 
so the light might fall full upon the sparkling gems. 
She would wear it — wear it often — if only to compel 
her to think of the generous donor, whose unseen hand 
had guarded her so faithfully. 


370 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


“And now for the letters, little wife,*' suggested 
Elimar, who had been enjoying Lucia’s surprise and 
pleasure. “ Come, let us sit by this cosy fire and I’ll 
read them to you.’’ He rolled an easy-chair in front of 
the merrily dancing flames, and seated himself on a 
footstool by her knee. “ Menken’s first,” he said, tear- 
ing off the envelope, on which a second letter fell out. 
“ From Francisco,” he added, laying it aside to be read 
after the baron’s. 

Herr Von Menken wrote as follows : 

“ Hacienda Xeres Patusa, 

“ February ist. 

“Dear Friends: Do not imagine that the intense heat of 
this South American climate has made me forgetful. I remem- 
bered the day which would see you united at the altar, and pre- 
pared the little gift, which I send you from this far-off country, 
with my best wishes and congratulations. Though I cannot be 
with you in person on the memorable day, I shall be with you 
in spirit — in spirit stretch out my hand across the waste of land 
and water and wish you every blessing that Heaven can bestow 
on its favored children. 

“If, amid all your happiness,, there should come a moment 
when you can give one thought to an absent friend, then think 
kindly of Yours always, 

“ Attokar von Menken.” 

For several moments after Elimar ceased reading. 
The silence was broken only by the crackling fire, on 
which rested two pairs of eyes that glistened with 
tears. 

Then Elimar took up Francisco’s letter. It was 
much longer than the baron’s, and breathed content- 
ment in every line. Cicco wrote enthusiastically about 
all the wonders he had seen on the voyage and in the 
strange new country, and expressed the deepest grati- 
tude and reverence for his “ second father.” They 
were going — this was the baron’s intention — to stop in 


THREE GRATULATIONS. 


871 


America until the autumn, then they would join a 
private scientific expedition to Africa. “ The baron,” 
so continued the lad, “ has proven himself not only my 
liberator — he is my friend, teacher, father, and I pray 
daily that I may some time be able to repay the grandly 
noble man for his kindne.ss and generosity to me.” In 
conclusion, he added that they had encountered Herbert 
von Hackert while in Buenos Ayres. The student had 
assumed a different name and was occupying an inferior 
position in a business house, but the baron had used 
his influence to secure a better position for the young 
man in the office of a wealthy coffee merchant. 

Elimar folded the letter and returned it to its en- 
velope. 

“ Herbert is a Hackert-Selchern,” he observed, mus- 
ingly, “ even though he did all in his power to disgrace 
the noble name. I dare say Menken thought of his old 
friend when he interested himself in the fellow to get 
him a situation that would be more suitable to his name. 
And now for the third letter. It is addressed to you. 
Lux.” 

“ Only a few lines, my dear Lucia,” wrote Annie Doring. 
“You know why I do not yield to my desire and send you a 
lengthy epistle. ’Tis the same ‘ reason ’ that prevented me 
from attending your wedding, and it is his shrieking with all the 
strength of his small lungs, in the cradle beside my bed. He is 
to be named Hans, after the older Hans, who is with us now, 
having won his laurels at the opening of the Tunnel. Just so 
soon as I am strong enough to travel, we shall return to Berlin, 
where Hans has been offered a profitable position in the Ministry 
of Public Works. Just now uncle came in to inquire after my 
health. He saw me writing, and of course ejaculated the usual 
‘ Incredible !’ Then he bade me give you his warmest greetings. 
Since the advent of the new citizen of the world aunt has become 
rejuvenated, and the kitchen has — But I must stop, for uncle 
threatens to take the pen from me. Addio, Lux ! I repeat the 
gratulation 1 sent with uncle to your wedding. May you be as 
happy with your husband as I am with my dear Hans !” 


373 


INVISIBLE HANDS. 


The letter fell from Elimar’s hand. He flung his 
arms around his wife, murmuring : 

“ Are we as happy, Lux — my own Lux ?’ 

She bent her head to his shoulder, and with her cheek 
pressed against his, half sobbed her reply ; 

“ Happier, my dearest, happier far 


THE END. 



THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 


^ JJ'otJfl. 

BY 

HONORE DE BALZAC, 

Author of Cesar BirotteaUj" ** The Alchemist^* Cousin 
Pons,’’* ** Eugenie Crandet^t eic.^ etc. 

Translated from the French by Mrs. Fred. M. Dey. 

WITB. ILLVSTBATIONS BT WaRREN B. DA7I8, 

l2mo. 350 Pag«s. Handsomely Boimd In Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


“ The Country Doctor ” is one of Balzac’s greatest creations. 
It is the portrait of an ideal man in a situation where superior 
ability and knowledge enable him to raise a whole community to 
a higher level of morality, prosperity and intelligence. It is a 
study in social science far more valuable than dull treatises and 
histories of social experiments. It is full of human interest and 
feeling and that wonderful realism which makes all of Balzac’s 
works like veritable stories of real life. The heroine is a creature 
of rare beauty and charm. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York, 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS 


BY 

E. VON DINCKLAGE, 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By S. E. BOGGS. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ST WARRRN^ B. BA VIA 


12mo. 318 Pag:es. Handsomely Sound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 

“ The Little Countess” is a delightful novel. It is full of life 
and movement, and, in this respect, is superior to most transla- 
tions from the German. It is distinctly a story to be read for 
pure enjoyment. The little countess belongs to an ancient and 
noble family. She is left an orphan in a lonely old castle, with a 
few servants and pets. Her heroic temper sustains her in every 
trial. The part played by an American girl in the story is very 
amusing, and shows what queer ideas are entertained of American 
women by some German novelists. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A New Novel by the Author of “ A Priestess 
of Comedy.” 


A PRINCESS OF THE STAGE. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 

NATALY VON ESCHSTRUTH, 

Author of “A Priestess of Comedy f Countess Dynarf etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES FAGAN. 


12mo. 300 Pagres. Handsomely Boimd in Cloth. Price, $1.26. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


In this story the author gives us both tragedy and comedy. 
The romantic love affair of the chamberlain of the czar excites 
the most thrilling interest, involving as it does such tragic con- 
sequences. There is a delightfully amusing side to the story in 
the love affair of Lena’s sister, and that of her hoydenish, noisy 
little country cousin and a young dandy. The character of the 
prince is exceedingly well drawn, and the transformation of the 
hoyden into a refined and elegant young lady is most charming. 
Nothing that has been published from the pen of the Baroness 
von Eschstruth is better than this story. The illustrations by Mr. 
Fagan are excellent. The book is beautifully bound in cloth as 
well as in paper covers. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


Julien Gordon’s Novel from the German. 


COUNTESS OBERNAU. 

AFTER THE GERMAN 
BY 

JULIEN GORDON, 

Author of ‘‘A Diplomat's Diary," etc., etc. 


WITH ILLUSTBATI0N8 BY JAMBS FA&AN. 


12mo. 281 Fagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.26. 
Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


Julien Gordon’s novels possess superb studies of character and 
fresh and unhackneyed incidents — merits which have rendered 
them popular. These qualities will also be found in “Countess 
Obernau,” which she has adapted from the German, and which 
is quite equal to any of her books. Countess Obernau is a woman 
who possesses a rare charm of individuality. She has refinement 
and exquisite sensibilities joined to an artistic temperament. 
There is a mystery in her life, and her independent character and 
Bohemian tendencies invest all her movements with interest to 
curious observers. The charm of her individuality fascinates all, 
and at least two are ready to die for her. The interest of the 
novel is all centered in this character. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A New Novel by E. Wemer. 


A Lover From Across the Sea. 

BY 

E. WERNER. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY 

MARY J. SAFFORD. 


ILLVSTMATI0N8 BY VICTOR PERARD AND H. M. EATON. 


12mo. 300 Fagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


E. Werner is the author of more popular novels than any 
other German writer. She has set the key for a good many of 
her sisters, who have made the German domestic love-story one 
of the most agreeable and familiar to American readers. These 
stories are always pure, interesting and popular, “A Lover 
from Across the Sea” is a fresh story, never before translated, 
and belter adapted for republication here than any German novel 
which we can recall. It is one of the author’s shorter novels, and 
the volume is enlarged by the addition of another new story by 
E. Werner, entitled “ In the Hands of the Enemy,” of the same 
general character and equally interesting. The illustrations of 
these stories add very much to the value and beauty of the book. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A New Novel by the Author of “ A Priestess 
of Comedy.” 


COUNTESS DYNAR; 

OR, 

POLISH BLOOD. 


BY 


NATALY VON ESCHSTRUTH, 

Authorqf^^ A Priestess of Comedy," Princess of the Stage," 

etc. 


WITH ILLUSTBATIONS BY JAMES FAGAN. 


12mo. 867 Fag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Nataly von Eschstruth’s novels are full of romantic sentiment 
that takes one completely out of the ordinary atmosphere and 
situations of common life. There are a swing to her style, a con- 
tagious enthusiasm and extravagance in her descriptions and a 
freshness in the emotions and passions of her characters, which 
command the attention, excite the feelings and absorb the in- 
terest of every reader. All who have read the “ Priestess of 
Comedy” will appreciate the truth of what we say. “Countess 
Dynar” is a book of most unusual beauty. The illustrations are 
admirably illustrative of the scenes and characters. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A Charming Novel. 


HEARTS AND CORONETS; 

OR, 

WHO’S THE NOBLE? 


BY 

JANE G. FULLER. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR LUMLEY. 

12mo. 347 Fsigres. Handsomely Bormd in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


“Hearts and Coronets” is a novel in which rank and wealth 
are contrasted with the plainer elements of social life, and are 
shown to be no bar to truth, purity and affection. The plot is 
extremely good, and appeals strongly to every mother who has 
ever looked upon a lovely child in the cradle and considered the 
possibility of its being suddenly snatched away and its fate re- 
maining for years a sealed book. There are possibilities in life 
more strange and surprising than any of the inventions of the 
novelist, and this story, like many others which strike the reader 
as improbable, is founded on fact. It is a deeply interesting nar- 
rative, with many delightful pictures of domestic life and woman’s 
experience. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE IMPROVISATORE : 

OR, 

LIFE IN ITALY. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OF 

Hans Christian Andersen. 

By MARY HOWITT. 

ZLLTT8TBATED BY HARRY a EDWARDR. 

12ma Bound in Cloth, $1.00. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


This is an entrancing romance dealing with the classic scenes 
of Itzdy. To those who desire to behold with their own eyes 
those scenes, it will create a fresh spring of sentiment, and fill 
them with unspeakable longing. To those who have visited the 
fair and memory-haunted towers and towns of Florence, Rome 
and Naples, it will revive their enthusiasm and refresh their 
knowledge. Andersen published this novel immediately after 
his return from Italy, and it created an extraordinary effect. 
Those who had depreciated the author’s talent came forward 
voluntarily and offered him their homage. It is a work of such 
singular originality and beauty that no analysis or description 
could do it justice, and the universal admiration which it at once 
excited has caused it to be read and reread throughout the world. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt ot price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A German Detective Novel. 


THE TELI.-TALE WATCH 

(Der Lebende hat Recht.) 


FROM THE GERMAN OF 

GEORGE HOCKER 

BY 

META DE VERE. 

WITH ILL USTRA TI0N8 B Y JAMES FA OAN. 

12mo. 350 PsLges. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


This story is based upon a thrilling tragedy in real life, which 
created a sensation in Germany, and which in the form of a novel 
is equally thrilling and interesting. German novels are usually 
quiet and domestic, and while interesting and charming, are sel- 
dom exciting or dramatic. “ The Tell-Tale Watch ” is both, and 
will satisfy the taste for a mystery which, in the beginning, seems 
almost unfathomable. It is a strange story with an original plot, 
and one which will cause difference of opinion, as the sympathy 
of the reader is excited in favor of one character or another. It 
is not a story which any one who reads will consider dull. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A War Novel. 


THE GUN-BEARER. 


BY 

EDWARD A. ROBINSON 

AND 

ge;orge a. wall, 

Authors of ^^The Disk," etc. 


WITS ILL V8TRA TIONS B Y JAMES FA0A N. 


12mo. 276 F&gea. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.26. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. ' 


A new and thrilling war novel of intense interest, narrating 
the experiences of a private soldier regiment joins Sher- 
man’s army at Buzzard’s Roost, and shares the fortunes of that 
army, participating in all the engagements up to the fall of At- 
lanta. Thence with General Schofield’s command, pursued by 
General Hood into Tennessee, contesting the ground foot by 
foot, the regiment finally joins General Thomas at Nashville. 
The story culminates with the desperate battle of Franklin, 
where General Schofield, with ten thousand men, wrestled with 
General Hood and three times as many Confederates. Vivid 
descriptions of soldier life in camp, on the march, in bivouac, on 
picket, in skirmish and in battle, sustain the interest and hold 
the reader’s attention to the end. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS,. 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A Fresh Novel From the German. 


WOOING A WIDOW. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF 

EWALD AUGUST KOENIG. 

BY 

MARY A. ROBINSON, 

Tratislator of A Child of the Parish f etc. 


WITH ILU8TRATIONS BY JAMES FAGAN. 


12mo. 380 Pagres. Handsomely Botind in Cloth. Price, $1.26. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Koenig is one of the most popular novelists of Germany, and 
“ Wooing a Widow” is his best work. The widow in the story 
has more than one wooer, and there is great uncertainty as to the 
one ultimately to win and wed her. It is an exciting story, with 
a succession of interesting incidents in the working-out of an ex- 
cellent plot. It is rare that we find a story from the German so 
well planned and so delightfully carried out. It can be read at 
one sitting without any feeling of fatigue, as the story is inter- 
esting from beginning to end. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


Mrs. South worth's Best Novels, 


ONLY A GIRL’S HEART, 

BY 

MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH. 


THE REJECTED BRIDE, 

Being “Only a Girl’s Heart,” Second Series. 


GERTRUDE HADDON, 

Being “ Only a Girl’s Heart,” Third Series. 

BY 

MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH, 


ALL THREE ILLUSTRATED BY HUUH M. EATON. 

12mo. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00 each. Paper 
Cover, 50 Cents. 


The three novels above named are all connected by a thread 
of story and deal with the same characters. The series reads 
continuously and is essentially one novel, although each book 
forms more or less a distinct narrative. The interest of the first 
novel is carried forward with increasing power until the close of 
the third. Few authors, living or dead, have swayed so wide an 
influence or held readers with a more sovereign power than this 
delightful novelist. Many readers are gratified to meet their old 
acquaintances in the successive books of a favorite author. F. 
Marion Crawford owes a great deal of his popularity to the 
Roman family of the Saracinesca, whose fortunes in succeeding 
generations are told in his novels. So this series by Mrs. South- 
worth will furnish a whole winter’s reading to her admirers, and 
all about the same people. The illustrations of these novels add 
very much to their beauty and interest. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE LEDGER LIBRARY 


No. AND Title. 


Author. 


Cloth. Paper. 


1— Her Double Life 

2— Uiiknowii 

♦H— The Huiiiiiaker of Moscow... 

4— Maud Morton 

«>— The Hidden Hand 

0— Sundered Heart!4 

7— The Stone-Cutter of Lisbon.. 

8— Lady Kildare 

9— IVis Kook 

10 — Nearest and Dearest 

11— The Dailiff's Scheme 

12— A Leap in the Dark 

13— Henry M. Stanley 

14— The Old Life’s Shadows 

15— A Mad Betrothal 

16— The Lost Lady of Lone 

17— Ione 

18 — For Woman’s Love 

19 — Cesar Birotteaii 

20— The Baroness Blank 

21— Parteil by Fate 

22— The Forsaken Inn 

26— Ottide Aster’s Silence^ 

24— Edda’s Birthright 

25— The Alchemist 

26— 1 luder l>a t h 

27 Cousin Pons 

28— The IJnloved Wife 

29— Lilith 

30— Keuiiited 

31 — Mrs. Harold Staffer 

32— The Breach of Custom 

33— The Northern Liaht 

34— Beryl’s Husband 

35— A Love Alatcli 

36— A Matter of Millions 

37 — Eui^enie Hrandet 

38— The Improvisatore 

39— Paoli, the Warrior Bishop... 

40— I’nder a Cloud 

41— Wile and Woman 

42 — All lesi^niflcant Woman 

43— The ( arletons 

44— Mademoiselle Desroches 

45— The Bends of Tasmer 

46— John Winthrop’s Defeat 

47— Little Heather* Blossom 

48— twiorin 

49— David Lindsay 

50— The Little f-oiintess 

51— The Cliantaiiqiiaiis 

52— The Two lliifmands 

53— 3Irs. Barr’s Short Stories — 

54— We Parted at the Altar 

55— Was She \Vdfe or Widow?... 

56— The Country Doctor 

57— Florabel’s liover. 

58— Lida Campbell 

59— Edith Trevor’s Secret 

60— f’ecll llosse 

61— Love Is Lord of All 

62— True Daughter of Hartenstein 

63— Zina’s Awakina 

64— Morris Julian’s Wife 

65— Dear Elsie 

66— The Hunirarian Girl 

67— Beatrix Uolian 

68— A Son of Old Harry 

69— Romance of Trouville — - 

70— Life of General Jackson 

71— The Return of the O’Mahouy. 

72— Reuben Foreman, the Village 

73— Neva’s Three Lovers 

74— “Em ” 

73— “Em’s” Husband 


Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. E. D. K. N. fcjoutliworfh 

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 

Major A. K. Calhoun 

Mrs. E. I). E. N, South worth 

Mrs. Haniet Lewis 

Prof. Wm. Henry Peck 

* Mrs. Hairiet Lewis 

Captain Mayne Reid 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. South worth 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. South worth 

Henry Frederick Reddall 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. 8outhworth 

Laura Jean Libbey. 

Mrs. E. I). E. N. Southworth 

Honore De Balzac 

August Niemann 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Anna Katharine Green 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Honore De Balzac 

Jean Kate Ludlum 

Honore De Balzac 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. feouthworth 

(( it <( 

A Popular Southern Author 

Robert Grant 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey. (Translator).. 

E. Werner 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 

Anna Katharine Green 

Honore De Balzac 

Hans Christian Andersen 

W. C. Kitchin 

Jean Kate Ludlum 

Mary J. Saflford 

W. Heimburg 

Robert Grant 

Andre Theuriet 

Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

Jean Kate Ludlum 

Mary J. Safford. (Translator) 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

<• (« it 

S. E. Boggs. (Translator) 

John Haboerton 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Malcolm Bell 

Honore De Balzac 

Laura Jean Libbey 

Jean Kate Ludlum 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

il it 

From the German 

it it 

Mrs. J. Kent Spender 

Elizabeth Olmis 

From the German 

it it 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Albion W Tourgee 

Brehat 

Oliver Dyer 

Harold Frederic 

Blacksmith. Darley Dale 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 

it it tt 


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THE LEDGER LlBRARY==Continued. 


No. AND Title. 


Adthor Cloth. Paper. 


70— Tlie Husband 

77— The Siberian Exiles 

78— The Spanish Treasure 

80=Tla%*^o‘rthe "SVr'^Bell Mrs. Amelia E. Barr............ 

Sl.-Tlie Child of the Parish Marie von Ehner-Esclienbach. 

82— Miss Mischief. 


Mrs. Harriet Lewis — 
Col. Thomas W. Knox. 
Elizabeth C. Winter... 
Maurice Thompson — 
Mrs. Amelia E. Barr. 


83— The Honor of a Heart.. 

84— Transuressina the l.aw. 

85— Hearts and f Coronets — 

86— Tressiliaii Court 

87— fitly Tressilian’s Fate — 

88— Mynheer Joe 

89— The Froler Case — 

90— A Priestess of Comedy.. 

91— All or Nothinit. 


W. Heimburg.. 

From the German 

Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 

Jane G. Fuller 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis 


bt. George Bathbome 

From the French by H. O. Cooke... 

Nataly von Eschstruth 

Count Nepomuk Czapski. 


92 — A Skeleton in the Closet Mrs. E- 1). E. N. Southworth. 

93— Brandon Coyle’s W ife « i 

— . From the German 

J. H. ConneUy 

Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 

Elsa D’Esterre-Keeling 

Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 


95— The Tell-Tale Watch 

96— Hetty; or the Old Grudge. 

97— fiirls of a Feather 

98— Appassionata . 

■Only 


99-Only a Girl's Heart 

100— The Kcjected Bride ,, „ „ 

101 — Gertrude Haddon , ^ ^ 

102 — Countess Dvnar, or Polish Blood. Nataly von Eschstruth 

103— A Sleep-Walker Paul H. Gerrard.....^ 

104_A Lover From Across the Sea and Other Stoiues. E. Werner — 

105 — A Princess of the Stage Nataly von Eschstruth.. 

106— Countess Obemati JuUen Gordon. . . . - ----- - 

107— The Gun-Bearer E. A. BobiuBOTi and G. A. Wall. 

108 — W'ooing a WTdow Ewald Augu^ Koenig.. 

109— Her Little Highness Nataly von Eschstt-uth 

110— In the China Sen Seward W. Hopkins 

111— Invisible linnds F- ''"oo Zobeltitz 


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Every Number Beautifully Illustrated. 


For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or sent post 
paid on receipt of price by 

Robert Bonner’s Sons, 

PUBLISHERS, 

» 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York City 

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